


The Way Forward

by AllTheBellsInVenice



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Dark, Dark Comedy, F/M, Happy Ending, Hint of DubCon, Light Angst, Prompt Fill, Sexytimes, The Labyrinth - Freeform, restraint play, them damn goblins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2088399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheBellsInVenice/pseuds/AllTheBellsInVenice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dark and twisty tale of pursuit, obsession, terrifying passion, and glittering worlds beyond her own. For her will is as strong as his...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NextToSomething](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NextToSomething/gifts).



> A prompt fill for NextToSomething.

“The way forward is sometimes the way back.” 

The last light was fading from the sky, and the words of the old Wise Man echoed in Jareth's mind as he flew on white wings over the Goblin City, then up, up to the window of his own chamber. Alighting on the ledge, Jareth reshaped the thought of his own body, letting his owl form dissolve and taking again the shape that he used most often. When his shadow on the far wall once more had the shape of a slender, tall man, Jareth stepped down from the window ledge and turned back to look over his kingdom, such as it was.

“Wise Man,” Jareth muttered, sharp teeth glinting as his lip pulled up in a snarl. “Debatable.” The drowsy old fool was almost as ancient as Jareth himself; he had been one of the first entities to coalesce here in the Underground, so many centuries ago. His name, if he'd ever had one, was lost now from the collective memory of the gabbling goblins and gawping dwarves and all the other odds and ends of semi-sentience that had stumbled into being in Jareth's domain. 

However, the Wise Man's words did have meaning, Jareth reminded himself. Without question. Wisdom was his nature, prophecy was his function, the core of his limited being. Whether the meaning of his garbled proclamations was discernible, or at all useful once understood, was another matter entirely. 

So when Jareth in his desperation had finally sought out the Wise Man in the hope of tearing some shred of meaning from the fool's ramblings, something that could help him regain control over himself...why under the cold stars would the doddering wretch then give Jareth the very same words he'd given the girl?

It had happened years ago, but he remembered it well. He'd watched the entirety of their exchange through his crystal. The Wise Man had given her nothing she could use, of course, and at the time Jareth had been far more interested in plotting out how he'd retrieve the ring the girl had left in payment. But now a darker significance wound its way around the memory.

Sparing half a thought to conjure a silken robe, more from habit than from any care to conceal his maleness from his scuttling servants, Jareth walked to a little table beside the great bower of a bed. In the last hours, it seemed, the undying blossoms that grew on his bedposts had crept silently over the table, creating a rich nest of vines and petals around the little coffer he'd placed there. 

He pushed aside the intruding blossoms, hesitated for a long moment with his fingers on the coffer, then opened the lid. A light flared beside his head, glimmering over the little ring that lay inside, as well as the few strands of long, dark hair. He'd sent out a swarm of nixies to trail the girl at a distance as she wandered through his Labyrinth, ordering them to find and bring back every hair that could have been snagged in a twig or left in the paw of some creature who'd touched her, oh, touched her as he had never done. Jareth let his fingertips brush the shining strands, these tiny proofs of her existence, the last traces of her in his domain. 

The mere contact ignited something deep in his body, and down between his legs stirred that dark longing that she awakened in him for reasons he could not understand. He let his other hand stray into the opening of his robe, trailing down his belly to touch his hardening length, that center of his desire where he'd felt no soft mouth, no sweet welcoming flesh, for what felt like a star's lifetime.

Finally, releasing himself with a sigh, he picked up the ring. He'd hungered to possess the little artifact, to own the smallness of her finger in the width of the circle, to cherish her sense of beauty in its design, to treasure the flimsy piece of metal that had once lain right against her sweet flesh. His minion had stolen the trinket from the Wise Man. Surely the old being, even addled as he was, could dimly imagine who might covet anything the girl had left behind. Was the Wise Man taking petty revenge for the theft, seeking to confuse Jareth by giving his king those same words? Or was there some mystical connection, some deeper meaning that beckoned him toward a true path?

A growl of disgust escaped his thin mouth, and Jareth slammed the coffer's lid down over the poor treasures. To think that he, the Goblin King, would stoop to beg counsel of the dotard who passed for a prophet in his domain-in-exile. He'd grown desperate indeed. Yet again Jareth cursed his fate, prisoned alone in a tiny world that lay tantalizingly close to the plane of humans, yet far, far underneath the exalted domain of Faerie where his own people held sway. 

He had been alone so long that he no longer remembered the crime for which he'd been banished, nor whether his exile was ever meant to end. But it hardly mattered. He'd formed this world out of raw potential, and it would endure for as long as he did. Forever, if he could be bothered to keep on existing. He shrugged, turning away from that wearisome thought, and walked once more toward the window.

It was here in his Labyrinth that he'd deliberately awakened the girl's desire, those few years ago. He'd thrilled then to see the dark flames of lust kindle in her heart, to watch it muddle her mind and draw her into his web of dreams. He'd meant to distract her, of course, to lure her away from her goal, but then he had lost control of it all in the face of her singular will and determination. 

She'd passed every test as none of the others had, emerging from the trash heap to assault his city and actually penetrate to the very core of his castle and, thus, his own heart. Suddenly helpless, frightened by his desire to possess her, he'd found himself utterly broken by her mere denial of his power. How this girl could have shaken his soul, and thus torn through the very fabric of his domain, he still could not understand. 

“The way forward is sometimes the way back.” Jareth spoke the words aloud to the stars he'd hung in the firmament. Perhaps the riddle was simpler than he imagined. To move on, to resolve his obsession with the girl, he would need to retrace his steps. To walk the path he'd walked before, to find a new solution somewhere in the story's retelling. 

Slowly, a smile cut across his face, narrowed his cruel predator's eyes. Her prophecy was the same as his, the meanings intimately entwined in the endless crossings of paths that made up the shared existence of every being in every world. And, Jareth decided in a flare of resolve, it was high time their two paths should cross once more. 

She was anchored to his world now, by these scraps of herself that she'd left behind, and by the few bites of fruit she'd eaten here. It would be so easy to just take her. And then Jareth would show Sarah, his own Sarah, just how deep his Labyrinth could go.

***

Sarah was drifting, drowsing in the warmth of the day. The little boat made a hollow, friendly sort of sound when she set her feet on its low prow. Tipping back her head, she let her eyes drift closed under the dappled sunlight. Her book lay beside her, her place marked with a green leaf, and she'd shipped her single oar an hour ago. 

“It's so like you, Sarah,” her father had said, “taking that old dory out on the lake with only one oar. You never did have both oars in the water, did you, honey?” he'd teased, with that rueful smile of his.

“And yet I've always managed just fine,” Sarah had replied with a lift of her chin. And she had. Nobody else wanted the boat with the missing oar, and she just used the single one like a paddle to get out to the middle of the lake. Where no one could bother her, or ask what her plans were now that she'd finally scraped through university. Or ask her what she was reading while she was clearly immersed. Or urge her to “just talk to” this or that young man whose best features were his steady employment and vague affability.

Sarah pushed the thought away, inhaling the warm, green smell of the lake water and resting her attention gently on the wheeze of the cicadas, here for a summer, just as she was. Then...she'd figure it out. She wasn't worried. Perhaps she'd travel. Buy a cut-rate ticket to no matter what destination, just to go and see what was there. Perhaps she'd write a little about it, see if she was any good. 

Perhaps she'd seek out a man or two. Not boys, like the harmless mooning things at university. Sarah had no patience for them. Her stepmother, concerned about her lack of a boyfriend, so eager to match Sarah with a “nice one,” knew nothing of the dangerous nights she had spent in the arms of lovers who smelled of smoke and whiskey, hot metal, expensive cologne and raw lust. 

Yes, Sarah thought lazily. She'd like to meet more men. Like that mechanic with the rough hands she'd picked up at a dive bar. Or the lean, graying, tattooed violinist from the rock concert, so passionate, and so poor that she'd had to buy the condoms. Or that breathtakingly tall businessman who had approached her on the sidewalk with halting words on his lips and naked hunger in his eyes. She'd refused his money and spent half the night moaning under him, under his mouth and grip and gorgeous immensity, before slipping out of the hotel room and back to her dorm without another word. 

She arched her back just the slightest bit, smiling, remembering. Yes, to have a man for a single night, perfect; a good hard scratch for that itch. And then to be alone with her thoughts and her journal once more. Sometimes the men tried to give her their contact information, but Sarah wasn't interested. She could not abide men who assumed that they would keep her attention.

The little breeze caught a strand of her hair and dropped it over her face, and in the same moment, the soaking heat of the light vanished. A cloud passing over the sun, then. Maybe she'd paddle back soon, with her single oar. 

But when Sarah opened her eyes, there was no more sun, no more friendly green water, no shoreline or white-painted boathouse. A vastness of mist stretched around her, without feature or color...the horizon only an idea, the water a glassy gray. A creeping panic stole into her mind as she struggled to make sense of the change. 

She'd felt this before, long ago, this crippling incomprehension in the face of something impossible, nonsensical. An enchanted golden landscape stretching out before her, instead of the expected view of her own backyard. A straight, unbroken passage, terrifying in its endlessness. Falling into a dark hole with no apparent outlet. Stairs running upside down and sideways, gravity turning traitor, the world around her becoming a puzzle with no solution.

“Accept it,” she whispered, the sound dampened in the fog. She'd learned this lesson well. When what you see is utterly impossible, she reasoned, there's no point in protesting that it can't be true. Stay calm, observe the situation, and do what needs to be done. 

So. It was easier this time around. There was no imminent danger that she could see. Nothing lurking below the water, but yes, she noticed a current that was tugging her dory in a certain direction. She strained to peer through the mist. 

With a suddenness that made her gasp, the boat scraped up against stone. She knew there had been no landing ahead of her a moment ago, but now there was a slab of rough-hewn rock, coated at the water's edge with a slick of green, the first color she'd seen in this place. And there, an iron ring, running with rust, at the perfect height for her to tie off her boat if she so chose. 

Well, of course she chose. Her heartbeat quickened; yes, she was sure now of where she was, and who must be behind all this. And it was no use being stubborn with him. She readied the rope. 

Once the boat was secure, Sarah turned to see a set of steps carved deeply into the rock. Now that the steps existed, they had clearly been there for centuries. She set her shoe on the rough moss. 

A tremor shook the stone as she stepped onto solid ground, a little ripple that spread outward in a faint rumble, as if the land itself were affected by her presence. Sarah paused a moment, then moved slowly on.

The mists were swiftly rising, and Sarah peered at the solitary parapet of white stone that now loomed above her, corroded with age and overgrown with the black skeletons of vines. On both sides, stretching to a featureless horizon, a white beach met gray water. No signs of life, nothing but the stone landing that led directly to a set of pristine white doors. 

So, the Goblin King had taken her again. Sarah had always wondered if he might. 

As she'd grown older, Sarah had thought of her few hours in the Underground less and less often. It had never occurred to Sarah to doubt the truth of what she'd experienced, and after a time she had become comfortable with the mystery, with the inexplicable nature of the forces that had drawn her into that other world. Toby remembered nothing, of course, and Sarah had never mentioned it to the little boy. She'd never felt a need. 

In the first years after her adventure, she'd often called for her friends, Hoggle and Ludo and Sir Didymus, and they'd always appeared faithfully. But they would never answer her questions about their lives in the Underground; they'd always gently steered the subject back to her. And after a time, her friends appeared only in her mirror, then faintly in the reflection off a window. With each visit, they spoke less and listened more, always kindly but ever further out of reach. Now they existed only in her thoughts. 

She missed them. Would she see them again if when she opened those white doors?

And what of Jareth? Why had he brought her back? Sarah narrowed blue eyes at the doors. Surely he'd appear soon to offer taunts, throw down a challenge or a set task for her, some sort of devil's bargain. 

But long moments passed in stillness, broken only by the faint lapping of endless water on an infinite beach. And Jareth did not appear. 

Sarah would not wait any longer for him. 

With a last glance at the little boat that bobbed on the water behind her, Sarah walked toward the doors in the expectation that she'd never see the boat again, nor be able to retrace her steps. The Labyrinth changed from moment to moment, and as she'd learned well the greater part of a decade ago, the only thing to do was to accept its strangeness, and press forward. She reached out to push the white doors open. 

***

Jareth bent over his gazing crystal, shaken to the core at the sight of the girl. She'd changed so much, and not nearly enough for his peace of mind. He swallowed hard, then tore his eyes away from the image and started to pace the high chamber in his agitation.

She was not reacting as expected. She'd not been properly terrified to find herself taken from her world and set down at the very edge of his domain. A little anxiety had shadowed those lovely gray eyes at first, but then she'd gone still and calm in the boat, just waiting and watching until he'd given in and willed the landing into existence. 

Jareth glanced at the crystal again. Now the girl was walking confidently to the head of the landing, her hair longer than ever as it streamed out behind her. Her figure had rounded in the intervening years, adding lushness to her height, and her simple white dress left her rounded limbs exposed to his gaze. His body could not help but respond; Jareth let out a low moan.

He had planned to confront her as soon as she arrived. He'd darken the sky, conjure a great wind to make an impressive entrance, graciously allow her to cower before him. Then he'd do everything to keep her off balance, enjoying her confusion and relishing her fear. He'd threaten her with, oh, something or other. Then he'd quickly turn around and tempt her, not with toys or illusions this time, but with himself. He'd already blown her sleeping desire into a flame, changed her forever, and now he would use it to bring her finally under his iron control. 

He'd move close to her, too close for propriety. Close enough to surround her in his scent. He'd let her tremble with excitement to see the glint of his eyes, his sharp teeth. And at the last, he'd touch her. He'd draw his hands along her flesh for the first time, the contact a mere preamble to the far more carnal attentions he had in mind. He'd shake her up, make her wet for him. Then he'd leave her, let her wander the Labyrinth for a while, fearing and longing for his return. 

Jareth had plotted all this through long nights, alone with visions of her wondering face, her breathless submission in the face of his power. But the Underground had just responded to her touch, a tremor rippling outward from her first step onto his domain in acknowledgment of her return....What could it mean? 

Seeing her now in his crystal, watching her throw open the doors and enter his Labyrinth with that bold step, Jareth swiftly reconsidered his plans to approach the girl so soon. He needed more time to watch her, to understand what magic should be wrought to bring her to heel. 

“The way forward...” he muttered, drawing his silks tightly around himself and leaning down to catch her moving image once more.


	2. Chapter 2

When Sarah pushed those white doors inward, she stepped into a world of dankness, a forest of gnarled trees whose tangled branches blotted out any light from the sky. The doors creaked shut behind her. Fleetingly she glanced over her shoulder; no turning back now. There was only the barest trace of a path through the trees, where the undergrowth was a little thinner, and Sarah started down it, reasoning that it must lead somewhere. _Though nothing is truly as it seems here,_ some still part of her whispered. 

This forest was ancient, unhealthily twisted, growing denser with every step. Dim lights kept appearing in the corner of her eye, only to fade when she turned her head. And unmistakeably, tiny sounds followed her steps. A sharp scuffling from behind, a low muttering from the depths of a thicket. Heart thudding in her chest, Sarah found herself having to climb over coiling roots, step around patches of glistening slime, squeeze her way through narrow openings. If the forest grew too dense for her to go on, what was she to do? And if Jareth himself appeared...well, these were close quarters, and she could not hope to evade him if he were to....

“Treasure returned,” said a tiny voice, quite close at hand. 

With a gasp, Sarah darted her eyes all around, but could see nothing that looked as though it could speak. “Treasure,” she heard again, looked down, and jumped backward to spy the little winged thing, round-bodied and black as coal, that was sitting on one breast and clinging to a long lock of her hair. 

“Get...get off me,” Sarah told the thing. It was gazing up at her with shiny eyes like black buttons, its spindly fingers and long toes gripping stubbornly even as she tugged at the lock of hair, trying to shake it loose. “Nixie treasure,” it squeaked. “Treasure home!”

Suddenly, beetle-black wings buzzed to life, and the creature flew sharply upward, wrenching at Sarah's hair. Sarah yelped in pain and annoyance, but the thing was already out of her reach. Bumbling slowly away between the trees, it let out an ear-splitting screech of triumph, and she Sarah saw that several long black strands were clutched in its many-fingered paws. 

“Little pest,” Sarah exclaimed, rubbing at her scalp. Still, losing a few hairs was far from the worst thing that was likely to befall her in the Goblin King's realm. She clambered over a fallen log. The undergrowth seemed thinner in this direction; maybe she could even find a stream to follow...Not that she had any particular direction to go in, but any sort of path would be better than this trackless wood. 

Sarah's thoughts strayed to the one who was surely her abductor, the Goblin King. Those cold hunter's eyes shone in her mind above the thin smile that boded nothing good for her. She remembered the glint of those unnervingly sharp teeth in that feral face. That long, graceful form that seemed always awash in moonlight. And oh, that icy scent of him when he'd leaned far too close to her. Why had he brought her here, and why wouldn't he appear...?

But a buzzing noise was growing in the air, growing louder from every direction, and suddenly Sarah was beset by dozens, hundreds of the black flying creatures. They darted and dipped, grabbing onto her hair, tugging painfully, their thin voices burbling, “Treasure! Nixie treasure!”

“Stop it,” Sarah cried, batting wildly at the things. “All of you, leave me alone!” 

To her surprise, the creatures---the nixies---heeded her. Dropping her hair, they buzzed a few feet off to settle on branches. All except one, which swooped to hang in the air before her face. 

“Nixie duty,” the thing said, pointing a thin finger at her hair. Sarah peered; this one was a little more spindly-limbed than most of its fellows, its spiky hair more gray than black, its fat little body wrinkled like a raisin. “Many years, seek treasure,” it proclaimed, waggling its hands around itself in every direction. “Seek for king! Nixie honor!”

“For the king?” Sarah asked, dumbfounded. “The Goblin King wants...my hair?” 

“Treasure for king!” it crowed. “Legend of old! Forever seek treasure!” Stubby arms raised skyward, the nixie swung around to face the others, who sprang into the air as one and raised their squeaking voices. “Treasuuuuure!” 

“Oh, no you don't!” Sarah cried as the buzzing black things dived after her. Gathering her hair into one hand, she leaped away, shielding her face with her other arm as she crashed through leaves. Tiny voices squealed in dismay; there were so many of them, but they bumbled too slowly to follow her. Sarah bounded onward for some minutes, not giving the creatures a chance to catch up. 

The trees were certainly thinning now, and patches of pale sky glimmered overhead. Glowing points of light clustered in the branches far above, and a faint thread of singing reached her ears over the sound of her own pounding footsteps. “Fairies--?” she murmured, craning her neck. Then her foot caught on a root, and Sarah shrieked and fell heavily, face first, into a very deep, very sticky mud puddle. 

The sweet singing overhead turned into a chorus of tinkling laughter. “Damn, I forgot...fairies are little shits,” Sarah muttered as she clambered to her elbows, then her knees. She wiped mud from her eyes as best she could, squeezed gouts it from her hair. Great, just great. Her white sundress was ruined, and she must look a fright. Not the way Sarah would have preferred to confront the Goblin King. Surely he'd mock her clumsiness...

Careful not to leave a shoe behind in the muck, Sarah tottered out of the puddle, bending to scrape the worst of it off her legs before slogging onward. Now she really needed to find a stream. Or a pool...Oh, if only there were somewhere she could wash...

Just as the thought crossed her mind, the sound of water grew in her ears. Peering around a mossy tree trunk, Sarah felt her mouth drop open. For in the clearing beyond waited a deep spring, bubbling up from the side of a hillock. The water tumbled down a little waterfall to pool in a rocky hollow, rimmed by soft moss.

It could not be a more perfect place to bathe. There was even a step that led down into the water, and a smooth rock to lean one's back against. It was eerily perfect, in fact. And it had appeared so suddenly, exactly when she needed it, just as the stone landing had appeared out of the mist for her dory. Sarah narrowed her eyes. Was _he_ watching her again? Did he think to send her a gift in her hour of need, or had he tripped her up in the first place? Oh, really, could all of this have been some elaborate ploy to get her to remove her clothes?

After a moment, Sarah shrugged. Even if he did wish to spy on her, what did she care? If she had to wander around his lands, she wouldn't do it covered in muck, just for the sake of a little false modesty. Let him look. Sarah tugged her waist tie loose and pulled the dress over her head. 

Quickly discarding her undergarments and leaving her shoes on a rock next to the pool, Sarah stepped in. The water was pleasantly cool, and the gritty mud quickly settled to the bottom as she wiped herself clean. She rinsed her face and hair under the tiny waterfall, sighing out her relief, then reached to pull her dress in as well. 

As she pressed the white fabric under the water, trying to rinse away the mud without grinding it in any deeper, she furrowed her brow. What was she doing here in his kingdom once more? She was in a place she'd never seen before, rough and untamed without even a path, let alone a maze of carved stone. There was no Labyrinth to solve here, no reason even to walk on that she could see, save to pass the time. Unless he'd taken her brother again as well?

Sarah smiled wryly. If Jareth had taken ten-year-old Toby, the boy could prove more of a handful than the Goblin King might wish to deal with, whatever his purposes. She wished him joy of the experience.

Sarah leaned back against the smooth stone, dismissing the thought. It was all speculation until she knew for sure. She could do nothing until the Goblin King came to her, until he told her what he wanted this time. It wasn't like him to stay away from her for long, though. Why would he bring her here, then leave her to wander the forest alone? Where was he, with his taunts, his impossible tasks, his traps and tricks and unfair twists in the path? 

Sarah scowled. He'd have to show himself sooner or later. And when he did, she wouldn't cower. She'd demand that he send her back immediately. She might not see a path forward there either, but at least it was her own world, familiar, more predictable. There, she could continue her life, hop on that plane to anywhere, finish her book. 

She stopped short, remembering, her dress floating away from her slack hands. Her book had been in the dory before he'd taken her. Had it still been sitting in the bottom of the boat after she'd found herself floating in the shapeless mist? She had been struck by the colorlessness of everything in sight, and the bright-yellow cover would have glowed amid all that gray. No, it could not have been in the boat. Somewhere between the lake and the mist, her book had disappeared. 

“Augh,” Sarah cried in disgust, slamming her fists against the surface of the water and stirring up a mighty splash. “Bastard took my book!”

**

High in his castle, in the privacy of his bedchamber, Jareth watched the girl settle back against the wet stone, crossing her arms and sulking. He swallowed, exhaled, drew his mouth up tightly, and forced himself to look away from the image in the crystal. 

Since the girl had entered the forest---that primeval forest from long before Jareth had ever thought to build the Labyrinth itself, the forest on the outskirts of his domain, so close to the unformed areas---in that short time, she had shaken him to the core of his ancient soul, to the bedrock of his being. Not once, but twice. 

Oh, she'd furnished amusement for a time as she'd struggled through the wood, run afoul of the nixies. And when she'd fallen into the mud, he'd laughed loud and long at her sorry plight. But his laughter had quickly turned to shouts of rage, scaring away the goblins that had been scuttling about while he gazed into the crystal. For a bathing spring had appeared where it had not been before, created out of the raw potential of the Underground, and Jareth himself had not willed it there. And if he had not done it, the only other who could have was the girl herself. 

Of course, every human girl he'd ever snatched into the Labyrinth had shaped certain aspects of it, never knowingly. That was the nature of the Labyrinth: to continually form and reform in response to the imagination. For weak-willed humans, it was a passive effect that could hardly be called a power, that could never extend to reshaping the very land. That privilege should lie solely with him, the sole ruler of this kingdom! How had this mere human girl usurped it? And did this anomaly have anything to do with the shudder in the fabric of his realm, that ripple that had spread outward from the first touch of her foot to solid ground?

Thus Jareth had already been reeling far off balance when the second cataclysm had rocked him. The girl had taken off her dress, exposed that lush female body to his gaze. He had not been prepared.

She was already so lovely, with her frank eyes and precious black hair, but the sight of those full breasts with their pale nipples, the soft curve of her belly, those long legs that were so shapely, even streaked with mud, had stirred the primal fire in his blood. In her muddy dress, she'd been a ridiculous, clumsy girl. Out of it, she had looked like a fey female spirit, her hair and limbs streaked with sacred earth, some wild vision from the age when Faerie itself had lain as close as a lover to the realm of the humans. 

It had taken him far too long to come to his senses, to realize that he was spying on the girl—no, the woman, clearly. Cursing his contemptible weakness, hot with the shame of stealing this glimpse of her body unasked, like some vulgar listener-at-doors, Jareth had torn his eyes from the delicious sight of her nakedness. Only when she was cloaked by the dark waters did he creep back to brood over her. He'd returned in time to overhear her frustration over her book. 

He glanced down at the bright yellow cover, the crisp pages. A novel, a tale of elves and heroic wizards and cities of white stone. The thin paper was barely touched, and it smelled of ink and glue from some human factory. He fingered the long, flat leaf she'd used to mark where she'd stopped reading, then tucked it carefully back where he'd found it. She'd not be best pleased with him if he lost her place. 

Sarah's image flickered; the crystal was up to mischief again, slyly responding to a question he hadn't asked. For a split second, it had shown Jareth the red book he'd given Sarah, so long ago, when she was just beginning to ripen into womanhood. Even then, he could sense something special in her. She was very young, but Jareth was patient. And it had been easy to make that red book appear on her shelf. 

Sarah had noticed it immediately, of course, and avidly read the story of the human girl who herself had a little red book, who also used its words of power to allow her baby brother to be stolen by a Goblin King. And when in due course Sarah's own half-brother had been born, when Sarah had mimicked the girl in the story and spoken the words, she had opened the door for Jareth himself.

The red book...it was all his jailors had left with him when he had been imprisoned here, alone. He'd been told it held the key to his freedom. He'd forgotten so much over the eons, but he'd never forgotten that. 

And so countless times, he'd left that book on the shelves of countless lovely maidens. Fewer times, the girls would read the book, and even less often, they would choose to say the words. And when it happened, Jareth was always generous. He would always take the children when asked, and he'd always guide the girls to the Labyrinth. 

Only one of those girls had ever made it to the center of the Labyrinth. His hope for her had been so high. She'd sparred with him, defied him, danced with him in dreams. But she had been willful. She had remembered too much. And Jareth had learned to his ruin that the words she had used to call for her brother's kidnapping were not the only words of power the red book held. 

To come so very close, only to be defeated...it was a cruel joke. After his loss, he'd left the red book in the girl's world. It sat in a dark place now. He'd not had the heart to take it back as he had countless times before, to try again. Or so he told himself. 

Jareth glanced at the crystal again. Sunlight was touching the girl's face, caressing its fine bones, making her dark brows sparkle. Her lids were closed as though in sleep. Perhaps not all was lost. Perhaps he could find a way forward, reach after some final hope. And oh, how he burned to touch her, to kiss that face....

Yes, and why should he not go to her now? Surprise her, take the upper hand while she was unprepared, watch her scramble to cover herself? Surely she'd not dare to move from the water while he was there, and her modesty would make her more...manageable. He'd be able to question her about how she created the spring, discover whether he was suddenly dealing with an enemy. 

He thought briefly of the wise man's words, then waved away the image in the crystal with one long hand. There was a time for contemplation, of course, but there was also a time for action. Sometimes the way forward was, indeed, the way forward. Jareth stood. 

**

Between one sun-glimmer and the next, he was there, the Goblin King. Sarah became aware of his presence, his eyes on her, when the tiniest shiver passed through the stones beneath her body, the water, the very air. The fairies' soft chatter ceased, and the day grew darker, the breeze colder. Taking a slow breath, Sarah turned her head. 

He was lounging casually against a great tree, arms crossed. He looked just as she remembered him, clothed in gray gossamer, his pale hair wild as ever, those mismatched eyes watching her so closely. “Sarah,” he said, his voice as deep and smooth as had been in her dreams. “If it isn't you. After all...this...time.”

His words hung in the air, and a silence lengthened between them. Sarah found herself speechless. Her traitor heart beat faster, and her skin prickled with more than the cool of the springwater. 

Finally, Jareth tilted his head downward and spoke again. “Lovely one, why have you returned to my realm?”

At that, Sarah lifted her chin, found her voice and her defiance. “I'm here because you snatched me here, of course. Don't try to confuse me, Jareth.” His lips parted to reply, but righteous anger lent her a spark of confidence, and she spoke on. “Why did you do it? And what will you force me to do this time?”

Jareth's gaze turned gem-hard. Oh, she'd angered him. And surprised him; she could see it in the sudden clutch of his gloved hands on his arms. “Insolent girl. You always were so very insolent,” he said with that familiar smile-that-was-not-a-smile. 

“That's not an answer,” she retorted. 

“You think not?” he said with a sneer in his smile. 

“If you have no answer for me, then send me back,” Sarah said, reaching for all the bravado she could muster. “Or did you take my brother again, too?” 

Jareth tossed his fair head and laughed, showing his sharp teeth. “No, Sarah,” he said. “Your baby brother is safe at home, of course. Surely you realize I never intended to keep him. Why would I need one more scabby goblin? No, it was never about the baby. It was always about you. The dreaming girl. The girl who should have been mine.”

Sarah froze. But Jareth, the Goblin King, with the supreme confidence of blood-deep royalty, had risen to his full height and was stalking toward her, growing nearer every moment. His bare feet were soundless on the moss, his robes like mist around his body, mist that shifted in the light and softly intimated the secrets of the lean frame within. 

In a moment, he was at the edge of the pool. Sarah held as still as a prey animal, wide-eyed as she watched Jareth step slowly down into the water, his gossamer robes lifting, trailing on the surface behind him as he moved in close. She felt the pond's deep waters stirring. 

He bent his face toward hers, and there, there was his icy scent surrounding her once more, filling her every breath, stealing inside her mind. Lowly he spoke to her, caressing her with his voice. She closed her eyes. 

“Sarah. I will indeed send you back if you like. Back right now, to your safe little bedroom. Back to your life of pretending, of living inside your head. Or have you truly stopped dreaming, Sarah? Do you truly wish to leave the Labyrinth for the final time, to return to your ordinary life with its ordinary prospects? So you can finish your book, your little made-up story? Just say the word, Sarah, and back you'll go.”

His breath was on her cheek; her eyes fluttered open. Jareth was drawing off his pale gloves, setting them aside. He reached out a long white hand, so slowly. Then he was touching her cheek, his hand not cold as she'd expected, but delicately warm. His flesh against hers for the first time.

Those fingers drew slowly along her jaw, fleetingly touched her open lips---oh, when had she opened them?---and traveled leisurely down the column of her throat, leaving trails of cool fire in their wake. Sarah's head was dropping back against the wet stone, caught between one breath and the next. 

“Or will you stay here with me?” Jareth was saying, his voice taking on a deeper tone. “Fulfill all your dreams, live here by my side in a world of infinite possibility? Here in my kingdom, lovely one, I offer beauty to stun you, wonders beyond your understanding, a love that will last for as long as our shared eternity.”

His fingers were tracing her collarbone, sliding lower, drawing a net over her heart where her long-slumbering visions were breaking into blossom once more. Lower still.

“Tell me to stop,” Jareth breathed, his face inches from hers. “Sarah. Just say the word.” But her lips were still. And as Jareth's hand slipped under the water, tenderly circling the globe of her breast, the clever fingertips catching at the taut flesh of her nipple, Sarah shivered and let out the softest of moans.

“My king,” she gasped out. 

“Ah,” Jareth sighed in return. “Yes. That is lovely.” He gripped her shoulder tightly with his other hand. “You already know your place...” 

“What?” Sarah's eyes flipped open, and she stopped him with a wet hand on his chest. Oh, his skin, so smooth and warm, his heartbeat fluttering under her fingertips, but... “Know my place? Jareth...what is the price for...for this?”

His angled brows drew down. “What price? Oh, my lovely Sarah. Almost nothing. A trifle. I shall rule you, of course. You will obey me as your rightful king. Become utterly mine, body and soul, forever. Nothing could be simpler, nothing so sweet---” He leaned down again, to take her mouth. His breath tickled her lips....

“No,” Sarah said quietly. “Never.”

Jareth's eyes flickered, then narrowed. “What?” he whispered. The hand on her breast fell away. 

Sarah shoved at his chest, and she felt a fierce satisfaction to see the Goblin King staggering backward with a splash, an expression of utter perplexity on that handsome face. 

“Willful girl,” he snapped, finding his feet again, rising up out of the water. Despite herself, Sarah felt her breath catch in her throat to see that gossamer fabric clinging to his body, wetly transparent, revealing---

“Why will you never see, Sarah? Why do you refuse to understand that our bargain is tilted so steeply in your favor?” Jareth said, seeming to grow, looming over her where she sat in the pool. “You receive so much, all of me, an infinity of dreams, and all I ask in return is---”

“My submission,” Sarah said, setting her jaw. “Power over me. It's not nothing. It's everything.” 

Jareth snarled at her, and anger flared in her breast. She'd not let him tower over her, press her down into the pool with his eyes. Bracing her hands on the stones, Sarah surged up out of the water to stand just as tall as he. 

**

Jareth could not help it; he gasped aloud. There she stood, uncaring of his gaze, her blazing eyes on a level with his own as rivulets of water ran sweetly down her body. Her mouth, that mouth he'd almost kissed, was set against him now. Dark wet hair strayed down over her breasts, where he'd touched her, toyed with the tender nipple as that returning fire blazed in his own loins. He was weak, so weak to allow the mere sight of her to bring him low, to let himself tremble with this hunger to possess her. If only she were not so bold, so determined to defy him! If only he had not been so lonely for so very long....

There was no pity in those gray eyes, nor any fear. But, oh, she was mistaken there. She was foolish not to be afraid of him, the Goblin King. He'd make her understand. 

“No matter what you may believe, Sarah, I already hold absolute power over you while you are in my realm,” he said, turning slightly away from her and folding his arms so that the layers of his robes would hide his obvious...interest. He watched her face carefully as he set his trap. What would she give away? 

“Even when you're in the human world, I can bring you here at any moment. This I have proven, Sarah. You are already at my mercy, and you have not a shred of power here. Surely you can comprehend this?” He gave her his most arrogant expression, daring her to contradict him. Rare was the human who could resist the temptation to reveal a secret in a show of defiance.

But her lips were pressing together in frustration, her eyes growing desperate under their steel. Could it be that she had called this very spring into existence all unknowing? But her answer confirmed it. “I may have no power here, but I have my own will,” she said, never raising her voice. “And you can never force me to love you.”

“Oh, you'd be surprised,” Jareth retorted, waving this away impatiently. “Love is not the earth-shaking force the foolish imagine it to be, you know.” 

“Yes, I'm well aware of that,” she told him. Her eyes were too knowing. 

And suddenly, Jareth was as furious as he'd ever been. What did this human girl, this mere maiden, understand of love? Far less than he, surely, but she dared to throw it back in his face. 

There was a mystery about her that he could not yet fathom. And Jareth saw, in a flash of insight, that if he stayed here any longer to fight this soft battle, he'd surely lose. Suppressing his sudden fear, he let his lip curl.

With a flick of his hand, he lifted all her clothing, dissolved it into the air. “Then stay here, clever thing,” he said, feigning a laughter he did not feel as she shouted in outrage. “Stew here in my pool until I choose to return. If you keep very quiet, perhaps the creatures of the night will not find you. And if you stay very still indeed, perhaps you will see reason in the water's reflection. Ah, but no,” he said, smirking at her stricken face, “that would be impossible, for you have no magic, none at all. Piteous, willful girl.” 

And with a turn of his mind, Jareth was back in his bedchamber, his robes streaming with cold water and forming a puddle on the stone floor. 

He dropped his robes and shouted for his servants to mop up the mess. Between one thought and the next, he had clothed himself once more with leather, metal, and dark jewels, as befitted a king, not some besotted lover longing to draw his lady to his bed. He clenched a gloved fist against the frame of his window, looking far out over his lands. His lands were all he had, but they would be enough. Had to be enough. 

Let her wait there for him. Perhaps he'd leave her to wait forever, or simply dismiss her back to her own faded world. He could not decide which would be the crueler fate.

A buzzing sound met Jareth's ears, followed by a chorus of tiny, yammering voices. Oh, by the cold stars. Those nixies again. 

A hundred fat black bodies dropped down to land clumsily on the deep stone sill; a hundred pairs of beetle eyes lifted in worship toward their king. One of them toddled forth, the Eldest surely, and held up a thin coil of seven or eight dark hairs. 

“Treasure for king,” it squeaked. “Nixie duty!” And as Jareth reached down, the tiresome thing dropped to its belly in a storm of comical weeping, clutching the hairs so firmly in its spindly hands that Jareth was forced to pinch and tug the little coil away from the Eldest.

“Nixie serve,” it sobbed. “Serve king forever.”

“Yes, yes,” Jareth sighed, glancing at the hairs. “You've done well. Go forth in all honor.” He nudged at the Eldest with a finger, only to snatch his hand away when the old nixie grabbed at it with a piercing wail. “Now. Get.”

The nixies began to screech out some unbearable anthem of theirs; Jareth turned away from the window and gritted his teeth. Only when their ear-splitting song began to fade into the buzz of their flight did Jareth look down at the precious hairs lying in his palm. 

Glancing around him, seeing only the scampering, unspeakably ugly little goblins as they flailed away at the puddle with a dozen tiny mops, hearing only their endless chatter and the last shrieks of the nixies currently infesting his window, Jareth clenched the hairs in his fist, closed his eyes, and allowed himself a long, silent sigh.


	3. Chapter 3

“Out, out, out.”

With a small splash, Sarah startled out of her sulk as the harsh female voice croaked at her. The sound was curiously muffled, and at first Sarah could not see who could have spoken. Then she spied a pair of yellow eyes glowing lamplike under the water, and scrambled hastily backward. A flat, greenish head broke the surface, and wide lips opened. As water rushed into the cavelike mouth, Sarah heard again those croaking words. “Out, out, out! MY pool! Mine!” Twiggy fingers unbent and shook droplets at her face.

“All right, I'm going. Knock it off,” Sarah muttered, clambering onto the rocks and out of the water. She shivered. Nothing to shock her out of her lingering arousal more effectively than some smelly creature popping up out of the bathing pool.

“Jenny Greenteeth's after claimin' this,” the thing said in fretful tones. “No human muck in Jenny's waters, thank you. Move along, you! MY pool!”

“Fine, you're welcome to it,” Sarah said. She chafed her chilly arms and stepped into a patch of sunlight. The breeze had picked up, and goosebumps were rising on her skin. Jareth, that beautiful, thoroughly infuriating man, had taken her clothes, even her shoes. What was she to do? She couldn't wander the Labyrinth in nothing but her skin.

A cackling from the pool drew her attention. “Bare as an undine, you are,” Jenny Greenteeth said with relish. “You'll need something more'n that cloak o' wind, come the dark. Weave a pinafore o' petals, then, or a gown o' grass and earth.” Jenny gave a wet chortle.

“You're not helping,” Sarah snapped, but Jenny was right. The afternoon was getting on, if the position of the rather pale sun were any reliable clue. Night would soon fall. Well, she had better start walking, find a place to hide. Oh, for a suitable dress...

Behind her, Jenny gave a strangled shriek. Sarah turned in time to see the creature disappear under the water with a splash, but then a white shape caught her eye. Laid out on the grass before her was a long dress, not unlike her favorite costume dress from years long past. Puzzled, Sarah caught up the garment and held it against her body, noting with some relief that it would fit her perfectly. What an odd thing: her mind had pictured just this dress a moment ago, and she'd fleetingly thought it would be lovely but rather impractical and chilly.

But look, the trailing sleeves were shorter now, the hem no longer cut in a train. The fabric was substantial in her hand, and there was even a soft hood attached. Sarah gasped her delight and made to hurry into the dress, then stopped.

Had Jareth sent her this? Sarah shivered to remember him, the way he'd looked at her, touched her body. The naked desire in his eyes, and the terrifying flash of his wrath when she'd refused him. Oh, that gasp he'd given when she'd stood up, forced him to look at all of herself. Only minutes before he had stolen her clothes and declared he'd make her wait for his return. Had Jareth relented so quickly?

Impossible. He'd been furious with her defiance. Sarah could not think where the garment had come from, but surely it would not be from the Goblin King. She pulled it over her head.

“Now, if only I had some sturdy shoes,” she said to herself as she adjusted the dress. “Or...” And just like that, there beside her on the soft grass was a soft pair of---

“Boots,” Sarah finished, picking one up. “Now, that's really odd. Did I bring these here somehow?”

“Human witch,” Sarah heard from the pond, and turned to see Jenny Greenteeth spluttering at her, that wide mouth flapping. “You're like him, then. Air-shaper! Sewer o' stones! Be off with you, you'll not make anything out o' my pool! MINE!” And Jenny made a great splash so that Sarah had to dart backward.

Retreating to a safe distance with the new boots, Sarah sat on a mossy log to pull them on. “Oh, these will do nicely,” she said, wiggling her newly shod feet. “I never knew I could make things in the Labyrinth! Let me see, now,” she said, lifting her face to the silent trees. “I'd rather like...a crown.”

Yes, a crown. Sarah liked the idea of wearing a crown here in the Labyrinth, after Jareth had called her powerless. She closed her eyes, seeing the image...

And she felt the weight on her head, reached up to feel the smooth gems, the intricate gold of the very crown she'd been thinking of. “Oh, it's too heavy,” Sarah said to herself, more pleased with her success than with the result. “Perhaps just a crown of flowers and ribbons instead...flowers that won't wilt.” The great weight disappeared, and a gentle fragrance filled the air. Sarah reached up to touch the little blooms.

Getting to her feet, Sarah walked off between the trees, quite satisfied with herself. Likely Jareth believed she was still cowering naked in the pool, instead of striding away well dressed, setting out to---do what, exactly?

She'd come to the top of a little rise. Below her lay a grassy valley dotted with enormous, tree-crowned stones. A little road wound away between those stones, and Sarah could see a few rough cottages some way off.

Good. Something to aim for. She'd find out who, or what, lived in the little village. “Perhaps I can ask after my friends,” she said to a toadstool, which promptly opened red eyes and showed her a small tongue. With a shake of her head, Sarah set off down the slope.

As she jumped down to the road's rutted surface in a puff of dust, she heard the tromp of dozens of feet and many voices raised in a tuneless song. There was also a distinct smell. Trooping round a bend in the road came a motley group of goblins, short and grubby.

Sarah made to hide, but the goblin in the lead had spied her. “Ah,” it cried, pointing a knobbly finger. “You again. Look, yous, look who 'tis.”

“Just another king's girl,” grumbled another, who was leading an aggrieved-looking goat on a rope.

“No, stupid,” said a third, adjusting his outlandish hat. “It's THE king's girl, you blind?” He brought down his gnarled spear on the goat goblin’s helmet, adding yet another dent, before turning to Sarah and tugging his manky forelock. “Not seen you for centuries, love. Where's your great friend, then? The shaggy red one, with the stone friends and that. Tore my house open, he did.”

“I haven’t seen Ludo, unfortunately,” said Sarah, perplexed by all the talk of “king's girls,” but gratified that this goblin seemed to remember the gentle beast. “Sorry about your house, I suppose.”

“Nah, s’all right,” the hatted goblin said easily. “Lets in a bit o’ breeze, dunnit. And them sisters next door don’t half enjoy it when I run round in the altogether."

“Oh,” Sarah said, blinking. “Well...If you haven't seen Ludo, do you know Hoggle? Or Sir Didymus? Do you know where I can find them?”

“Rocks and knockers, king’s girl! We might well ask you where our luncheon is,” the goblin with the goat said. “Seeing as you've come from the castle, and all. Cook Weech always sends us pilgrims our luncheon! Come on, then. Where’s our Something Brown with Brown Gravy on Top?”

“I haven’t been to the castle,” Sarah replied, rather weakly. “And I haven’t seen anybody’s luncheon. Now what about Hoggle? Ludo? Sir Didymus? Ring any bells?"

“Naw, we only ring 'em when there's a battle, or leftover pudding. And o' course you've been to the castle,” the goblin said, watching his goat munch on his companion's boot top. “I was at that battle meself. I stood guard over the Dragon Well, north end of the Goblin City, and it was not invaded at all. Dead useful, me.” He rattled his armor proudly.

“Besides, king’s girls always wind up at the castle, soon or late,” the hatted one added. “Don’t usually hear from ‘em after, mind.” The goblin eyed her speculatively from under his hat brim.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” said Sarah, reddening. “Where are my friends?”

“Finally, the right question,” piped up a very small goblin wearing a very large helmet. “The answer is...we don't know! But the king surely does,” it added. “Why not go ask him, then?"

“Maybe I will,” Sarah said, narrowing her eyes. “Surely the king will tell me.” After a bit of convincing, perhaps.

“Well, watch your step, love. King’s been in a right strop ever since you ripped down half the castle after the big battle,” said the hatted goblin.

“Well, we very important pilgrims had best be off,” the first goblin said. “The Sacred Bone of Whence won't revere itself. Do give the king our bows-and-scrapes, and tell him Cook Weech is late with our luncheon again. G'bye, king's girl.”

And the troop of goblins and sundry livestock began trotting down the lane once more in a haze of yellow dust.

“Wait,” Sarah called after them. “Which way is the castle, anyway?” She could at least find out what direction to start with...

“That way,” the goblins cried as one, spears and halberds and clawed fingers pointing every which direction. The smallest goblin was even pointing straight up. “Get higher!” it called back.

Sarah huffed where she stood, alone once more. Fat lot of help those goblins were. And here she was, no better off for the bother.

Or was she? At least she knew now that Jareth's goblins wouldn't attack her on sight. In fact they seemed completely unsurprised by her presence in the Labyrinth. She was one of many “king's girls,” apparently.

So Jareth had taken human girls before. Sarah didn't quite know how she felt about that little piece of knowledge. And where were these girls now? If they all ended up at the castle, had any others escaped? Or had Jareth...kept them?

Had he touched them as he'd touched her? Sarah closed her eyes, and her body burned as she saw again that beautiful face, those slim hands. She flushed in spite of herself to remember the undeniable proof of his desire that she'd fleetingly spied under sheer wet silks. She didn't know what she'd expected, but clearly Jareth was a man like any other. Perhaps…

Sarah shook her head sharply, and the little flowers on her head shed a few petals down her shoulders. She refused to moon over Jareth as she'd done years ago, no matter what dreams he spun to confuse her. She had escaped the Labyrinth once, and she'd just do it again, that was all.

And Jareth ought to have left her alone. So part of Jareth's castle had been destroyed, somehow, when she'd escaped the first time. And back then she couldn’t even create anything. This time, if she could manage it, she'd teach Jareth not to bother her again. Maybe she didn't have much of a plan for herself once she was back in her own world, but at this moment, her goal was clear. Escape the Labyrinth, and make Jareth pay.

That was well and good, but now she needed a plan. And to find the way to the castle. The denizens of the Underground were not exactly reliable, but she could at least get the lay of the land for herself.

“For that,” Sarah murmured, remembering the goblin's parting words, “I need to get higher...”

Looking around, she saw that beyond the bend in the road stood one of those big rocks. It looked rather like a gigantic fish head popping up out of the ground, albeit a fish head somehow spouting a giant tree from its lips. There was even a rough trail curving around its side and leading up to the top.

“All right. Come on, Sarah. Let's get higher,” she said, and hitched up her skirts.

**

She managed to clamber to the top of the enormous stone without mishap, and shaded her eyes against the sun to peer at the land below. Behind her lay that gnarled forest, with a wall of mist beyond, where surely waited that featureless gray sea.

If she assumed that the pallid sun was lowering toward the west, then those jagged mountains were in the south. And north of the great rock lay the tiny village, with rolling hills far beyond. But no castle. And no Labyrinth. Or was there?

She peered through her fingers far into the bright west, where the fires of sunset would soon kindle. There on the distant horizon, she finally saw it, the castle with its contorted spires silhouetted against the golden sky. Sarah's heart lurched at the sight of that elusive edifice and the twisting maze that lay beneath it, scarcely visible. She knew that Jareth could appear at any moment, but still, she was oddly glad that the castle itself was still so far away….

“Greetings, miss,” she heard, and turned to see a ragged, handsomely mustachioed creature emerging from a dark hole in the giant tree trunk. “Looking to get to yonder castle, are you?”

“Why, yes I am,” Sarah replied, trying to blink the dazzle of the sun from her eyes. “Do you know the road I should---”

“Come on, then,” the manlike creature cut in, and disappeared back into the hole in the tree.

Still blinking, Sarah approached the dark opening and peered in. Her eyes were still rather sun-dazzled, but did she spy handholds in the heartwood?

“Best get a move on, miss, if you mean to reach the castle tonight. Sun's going down,” she heard from above.

“Tonight..?” Sarah heard her voice falter. Suddenly her mouth felt rather dry, but then she swallowed hard, felt out the handholds, and began to climb.

At the top of the rough ladder, Sarah emerged into a flattish place high in the crown of the gigantic tree, where house-sized branches forked away on three sides. The wind was stronger up here, so far off the ground. Her ragged guide was scampering down from an even higher branch, dragging behind him an immense green leaf the size of Sarah's dory back home.

“I'm Toffin, if it please you,” he said, setting the leaf down flat and standing upright again with a flourish. “I’ve sent many a citizen back to the Goblin City. And how did you plan to pay for transport this evening, miss?” Toffin asked, twirling both ends of his truly impressive mustache.

“I'm Sarah. And, well, I can create clothing,” she offered. Pay for what, exactly? Would he magic her to the castle somehow? He didn't look very magical. But then again, neither did she.

“Bah,” Toffin said, waving a many-fingered hand. “Don't need clothing. Got this fine suit from the baker's wife,” he said, spreading his arms to show torn and soiled clothes that must have been very fine indeed, many years ago. “It set me free, this suit did, and I won't abide another. Now, if you could mend, that would be something.”

“Well, perhaps I can,” Sarah said, walking closer. She circled the little man once, peering at his rags.

“Your leaf can't wait for needle and thread, Miss Sarah,” she heard Toffin say as she concentrated. “Once plucked, they don't stay fresh for...oh, goodness gracious me!”

Well satisfied, Sarah stood back to look at her work. “Good as new,” she said, smiling.

“So 'tis,” Toffin exclaimed, capering for joy to see his trousers whole and neatly hemmed, his sleeves and little vest all smart once more. “What a grand thing! My humblest thanks, Miss Sarah. Oh, but you can be no mere king's girl. Are you...” Toffin fell to his knees, careless of his newly repaired trousers. “...our queen?”

“Definitely not,” Sarah said, frowning. “Why would you think so, Toffin?”

“You have the royal magic. His magic,” Toffin said, goggling at her. “Should be impossible, unless he gave it to you. But no matter! Your leaf awaits, and it won't stay fresh for but an hour, so hop on!” Toffin jumped up and caught at her hand.

“Wait. What do you mean, unless he gave it to me?” Sarah allowed herself to be led over to stand on the leaf. “You mean the king, don't you. What do you know about this power I have?”

“No time, no time. You can ask the king when you get to the castle. Come on then, sit down! There we are.” As Sarah settled herself tailor-fashion in the curve of the enormous leaf, Toffin pulled on a rope, drawing a huge branch aside so that Sarah could see out over the wide land far, far below. The wind caught at her hair, lifted it, and her dress whipped around her body.

“Now, Miss Sarah, you tell the king from old Toffin that he ought to take you as queen,” Toffin shouted over the wind, hitching the rope around a knob of wood. “It's quite indecent, the state of things, if I may make so bold. Now then. Hands to the sides!”

“What? Toffin!” Sarah turned to him sharply, clutching at the edges of the leaf as she got an inkling of what was about to happen. “What are you doing?”

“Trust the wind. You have until sundown,” Toffin said, scampering behind her and taking hold of the stem. His grand mustache flapped wildly in the wind. “All future inquiries from next of kin should be directed to the next hill over. Lovely to meet you, Miss Sarah, your majesty, ma'am,” he yelled, shoving her leaf so that she was sliding quickly down a chute of smooth wood. “Hang on tight!”

“Oh god, no, Toffi-i-i-in!”

And Sarah let out a scream as her leaf launched like a paper airplane out into clear space.

**

High in the castle, in the middle of a mind-numbingly dull meeting of what he laughingly termed his “privy council,” Jareth gave a great gasp and clutched at the arms of his throne. A cold spike of terror sliced through his mind, made his breath catch and his heart gallop.

How, why had this emotion attacked him, and so suddenly? As Jareth fought to get his body under control, he glowered at the goblins who now gaped at him. That joke of a prime minister had just been threatening to make some sort of speech, but while Jareth was no stranger to deep dismay at the prospect, he'd never before reacted in abject fear.

Unless...oh, no. He closed his eyes and grimaced, showing all his teeth.

“Is your majesty quite well?” asked the spectacularly ineffective Minister of Chaos Abatement, who sat nearest to his throne.

Jareth came to a decision. “No,” he snapped, springing to his feet. “For the first time in all the eons, your king has taken ill.”

Cries of wonder erupted from the goblin council. “The history book!” the prime minister bellowed. “Bring the history book, and ink, and a penknife, and the chicken on duty!”

“Yes, yes,” Jareth said, passing a hand over his eyes. “I will go to my chambers now. Let no one disturb me.”

Good, the goblins would soon commence fighting over what page to write on, what color ink was most fitting for recording variances in the royal health, and who got to pluck the feather and cut the quill pen. It might keep the privy council distracted for several days, if Jareth were lucky. He ran lightly up the steps to the room where his crystal waited.

Moments later, Jareth scowled, tossing the black cloth right back over the crystal. Damn the girl to the howling hells! She'd not stayed in the forest pool, of course she hadn't, the defiant wretch. But how had she managed to get herself beautifully dressed, and thence onto an air-leaf?

He'd seen her in flight, the air-tree from which she'd launched receding quickly behind her, which explained the rush of terror he'd felt. That emotion was abating, though Jareth now felt a thrill sparkling in his blood, a wonder...and now, a wild delight...oh! He choked back an urge to shout aloud in exultation.

Backing away from the crystal, Jareth paced the chamber, casting his gaze this way and that, both hands gripping his hair. Beyond any doubt, he was feeling the girl's emotions now, or the strong ones at any rate. How or why, he could not guess. The phenomenon was beyond his understanding, and, Jareth found as he failed to suppress the emotions, far beyond his control. It simply would not do.

But wait. Where exactly was the girl planning to go on her air-leaf? Could she be coming to the castle? Coming...for him?

Fear gripped him once more. Her emotion again, surely. She must have flown into a cloud, or something like. Jareth himself had nothing to fear, of course. He was certainly not afraid of some human girl, who had no weapon but a great green leaf, who was perhaps coming ever closer to his castle.

His castle, the heart of the Underground, the center of the Labyrinth. His castle, which had cracked to its very bedrock the last time that she'd come. Sarah had somehow penetrated all his defenses and entered the deepest chamber, that place of darkness and vast skies, illogical and ever-changing, and almost as unformed as the gray borderlands of his world. And there, uttering the red book's words of power, she had defeated him, shattered him, collapsed the core of his domain.

It had taken Jareth centuries to repair the damage. And still he could not re-enter the deepest chamber. He'd lost the ability, and had been forced to seal the door.

No, he'd not allow Sarah to reach the castle. She was too wily, too clever by half. Look how quickly she'd gotten herself out of his predicament. Trust her to find some way of shattering the castle again. And if that happened...well, for a start, his goblins would never stop laughing at him. No need to think any further than that tiresome prospect.

Well, then. Time to put an end to Sarah's feeble attempt at invasion. It would be so very easy. Jareth walked to a window and leaned out, taking a great breath of the air that was part of the living substance of his own Underground.

**

Soaring high over the wide land, Sarah held onto her leaf with shaking hands and laughed for joy. 

The leaf had not plummeted to the ground; it did not spin in the air or tumble at the whim of the wind. Once Sarah had realized that her death was not imminent, she had quickly gained some semblance of control over the odd craft. It seemed light, lissome, floating on the breeze and turning where she leaned. The land spread out below her, glimmering with light and shadow, and she could go anywhere she pleased. It was something out of a dream.

Her eyes watered with the onrushing air. A floating strand of hair caught on her lips, Sarah reached up unthinkingly to brush it away. The leaf pitched sideways. 

“Whoa! Oh god, okay, I’m holding on,” she cried, shaking her head to dislodge the errant strand from her mouth. Hold onto the sides, Toffin had said. And trust the wind. And…

“I have until sundown,” she murmured, looking to the west, where the sun was turning dark gold above the dark spires on the horizon. “And there’s the castle.” 

Her belly clenched with an odd fear, seemingly out of nowhere. Well, it stood to reason: she was about to confront the Goblin King. Much as she dreaded it, waiting any longer wouldn’t help anything. 

Come now, some part of Sarah said. Why not fly away from here? Explore the wonders of the Underground for at least a while? She was helpless no longer. She could tend to her own needs, and the folk she'd met were hardly threatening, if not downright deferential toward her. And maybe she could find her friends for herself.

Yes, and why not start by landing her leaf in that river valley, where the golden trees were bowered with blossoms? Why not explore that strange ring of mountains, or the great desert in the distance with its glittering sands? Why not pay a visit to that tower of glass she spied, perched halfway up a majestic cliff over a lake of sapphire? 

Why not see what more she could do with her mysterious new power?

No. Sarah clenched her jaw. She was no longer Jareth’s ‘dreaming girl,’ to have her fancy caught by this world that was not her own. She needed to get her head out of the clouds, think practically for once. She had a life waiting for her back home, her own path to find in her own world. 

She refused to be what Jareth wanted her to be. She was herself, and if he just wanted some pliant slave, he could go hang. And she'd make him sorry he'd ever stolen her. Leaning to the side, she turned the leaf toward the castle. 

But the wind changed suddenly and buffeted her back. She tutted, and turned the leaf again. 

Another puff of wind, and Sarah was again blown off course. Cursing in annoyance, she turned the leaf forcefully toward those twisted towers.

The wind surged, and Sarah screamed as the leaf tumbled end over end, buffeted this way and that. She managed to hold on, then rocked the leaf level once more. 

“Strange,” she muttered. Steady sailing all the way until just this moment. 

She frowned. It couldn’t be a permanent defense so that no one could approach the castle by air. Toffin had said that he’d sent many to the Goblin City, but this wind seemed to be keeping her well away from the outskirts. She wondered if she could change the wind itself to let her turn in that direction. But when she concentrated, her thoughts feeling their way into the air itself, she found---a wall. 

There was no other word for it. A wall stood against her influence. The fluidity of the Underground had turned to stone in her mind, when it came to the force and direction of these air currents. Sarah bared her teeth. 

“Jareth!” she yelled, her voice thin against the whistling wind. 

He’d blocked her way, as surely as if he’d slammed a gate in her face. She could almost...yes, she could feel him there, behind the wall. Sense his fear...

“Ha,” she said, her lips curving in a tight smile. Jareth, the Goblin King, feared her. He must know of her power now, since he was blocking it. Making and repairing clothes was not exactly frightening, so Sarah must be able to do far more, even something that could threaten the Goblin King in his own domain. 

And so he chose to hide himself away in his castle, keep her at a distance. Deny her the right to confront him, demand news of her friends, require him to send her back to the human world. Sarah's smile slipped away. 

Well, what was she to do? The sun was about to go down, and her leaf had little time left. Aimlessly, she steered the leaf beyond the castle, skimming over the twisted, stony parts of the Labyrinth and the wide swath of trash she'd encountered years ago. Beyond the trash heaps lay the wild wood, and beyond that...

Sarah veered away. That indescribably horrible smell was tingling in her nose once more. Nobody who smelled the Bog of Eternal Stench ever quite forgot it. 

Farther on, then, past hazy gardens, tall hedge-mazes, and the outer wall of the Labyrinth with its many illusions. Far beyond the arid hills, Sarah spied a great gray ocean, and beside it, a lonely tower. 

“That's as good a place as any,” she said, turning the leaf toward the solitary spire. There was no sign of habitation, goblin or otherwise, she noted as she approached. The white beach was unmarked by any footprint, and great brambles coiled their way up the smooth sides of the tower, which was built, like so much in the Labyrinth, of pale sandstone. 

Cautiously, Sarah circled the tower once, twice, looking for any sign of a trap or anything amiss, but it appeared to be just a simple tower, with lacy stonework at its crown and a staircase spiraling down inside. The pale sun was just slipping below the horizon as Sarah set her leaf gently down on the tower top. 

As soon as she stepped off, the leaf blew lightly away, skimming up over the intricate stone railing and disappearing into the far distance. Sarah suppressed an urge to wave farewell, then turned to peer into the gloom at the bottom of the stair. 

“Getting too dark,” she said, then smiled. Holding out a hand, she looked at her palm and thought, _light._ And there above the curve of her fingers, a cool glow appeared, brightening as she willed it. Sarah grinned, then held her hand high and descended the stair. 

The steps ended at the door of a large, empty room with a wide window that looked out over the ocean. A single chair, built to fit a tall being like herself, stood by the window, facing outward. Sarah approached the chair and ran her hand over the exquisite woodwork, the carven knotwork and faceted stones that glittered under her light. She'd never seen such a beautiful thing in the Labyrinth, so fine and sleek. 

She stood still a moment, then gathered her skirts to sit. Soberly, she extinguished her light, and sat looking out over the restless gray waters. The sunset kindled as she watched, lighting the sky in pale red and gold. 

What would she do now that Jareth would not see her? She did not know how to leave the Underground without his help. She wasn't exactly pining for home at the moment, but surely she'd feel differently after being trapped here for a while. How long would he leave her to wander? Or was there a way she could get him to come to her?

She remembered his fear, and how she'd sensed him behind the wall he'd built to keep her out. Was the wall still there? And could she still feel him beyond it?

She let her eyes slip closed. Right away, that thin face appeared in her mind, those feral eyes fixed on hers. She remembered his icy scent, the strange warmth of his touch on her cheek, her neck, her breast...

She took a shaky breath as arousal began to glow in her once more. He'd always done this to her, from the very beginning, with his insolent gaze, his high-handedness, invading her space, pushing too close. And every time, her heart had oscillated between the instinct to recoil and a longing for him to draw closer...closer...

She reached out with her mind, feeling her way back to the castle. There it was, his presence. Just a whisper, a thread she could follow through the formlessness, a long tunnel she could call down...

 _Jareth,_ she whispered, and felt it echo into the darkness. _Jareth. Goblin King. Come to me. I want you...I want you here._

The thread tightened, grew stronger, becoming a string she could almost feel in her hands, and then turning into a trickle of cold water that pooled in her palms. She raised her hands to drink, and tasted his emotion on her tongue. Sweet, honeyed, with the bitterness of longing and the icy tang of fear, and something more she could not quite define. The water burned as it slipped down, spreading within her and thrilling her from her belly to her fingertips. 

“Oh,” her body murmured, just below. She settled back into herself, panting a little and leaning against the deep stone sill of the window. Longing, lust, fire and deep water and trembling earth, a world within her, calling urgently to the world within him. She knew he'd heard her.

And as she opened her eyes and saw him standing there in the darkness beyond the window, his eyes glinting with the red-gold of the sunset, she knew she'd gone out of her depth. 

Far, far out of her depth, she thought fleetingly as she leaped up off the chair at the same moment he rushed forward. Their two bodies met in a crushing embrace, faces and lips and tongues sliding against each other in a frenzied clash as the sky outside the window blazed white-gold with the light of a hundred suns.


	4. Chapter 4

How could Jareth have resisted the temptation to answer her call? 

She'd reached out to him through the ether, using all the force of her desire. Then her lust had fed into his, reverberating through their mysterious connection and stirring up a passion that stirred him deliciously, dangerously, uncontrollably. Answering her call had been like jumping from a precipice into a chasm of mist, not knowing whether death awaited him at the bottom, or whether he would discover how to fly. 

He still didn't know, here where her mouth was wet and greedy under his own. Outside, the sky still blazed with light, flooding the tower room. His hands were everywhere on her, gripping that soft flesh, gathering her rich hair. And she was touching him, ah, as he had not been touched for an eternity. He was already aching, hard against her softness, his blood surging in an unstoppable tide. 

But then that tide turned. He felt it the moment before Sarah pushed him away, when the hot light that was blazing red behind his eyelids faded out, leaving the sky outside the window dark once more. 

They broke apart, panting, and Sarah stared up at him, put out a hand to push him back. Jareth gave a mirthless laugh and captured her wrist.

“Let me go,” Sarah said, her voice low and urgent. “I didn't...I didn't call you here...for this.”

“Oh, you didn't?” He smiled mockingly, letting her see his teeth. “But you want me. You crave my touch. I can feel it, Sarah.” And he pulled her hand in, turned to press a kiss against her palm. 

She jerked her hand back, but Jareth stepped in close, prisoning her wrist and her body against the stone wall and enjoying the flare of her lust. He leaned down.

“Tell me to leave, Sarah,” he said, letting his breath tickle the shell of her ear. “Use your words of power again. I dare you.”

Sarah said nothing. She closed her eyes and gave a long exhale, leaning her head back against the wall and showing him that tender throat. 

“That's what I thought,” Jareth murmured. Surely she felt the fierce glow of his satisfaction. 

With his other hand he tore at the neck of her dress, ripping the material to expose one round breast. Sarah gasped, her outrage warring with her arousal, then moaned as his mouth closed tightly over her nipple. 

She gave a sweet cry as his tongue rasped her flesh. Her fingers were sliding into his hair, but then her voice burst forth. “Stop, stop--”

Feeling fear from her, Jareth pulled away. One step back, then. He folded his arms, withdrew into himself, eyed her narrowly.

“Why am I getting these emotions from you, Jareth?” Sarah's voice reflected her anger. “What have you done to me? They're not my feelings, they're not me.”

He favored her with a cool smile. “You were glad to be open to me a moment ago, my girl.” He dropped his eyes to her naked breast, insolent. “So beautifully open.”

She pressed her lips together, but made no move to cover herself. “You have no right to make me feel these things. Stop it!”

The red crackle of her anger made him gasp, and he stumbled back a step. He cursed silently, sure that she must have felt---

“You're afraid. The Goblin King...afraid.” Oh, those cruel eyes of hers. They saw too much. “You can't control this, can you? You don't understand it any more than I do.” 

“Sarah. I ruled this realm for long ages before you ever drew breath,” Jareth said, turning to look out over the sea of formlessness. “I am master of all you see...”

“Remove it then,” Sarah said from behind him. “Right now.”

“Perhaps I don't wish to.”

“Or perhaps you can't.” 

Jareth curled a hand into a fist, set it carefully against the stone wall. A silence fell, and tension crackled in the air. Outside the window, oily black clouds were gathering, roiling in the rising wind.

Presently, Sarah spoke again. “Where are my friends? Hoggle. Sir Didymus. Ludo. What has become of them, and why did they stop appearing to me?” Her voice caught, and Jareth felt the hurt underneath the words.

“Oh, Sarah. You won't like the answer. Not at all.” He closed his eyes. Why must she ask such questions?

“Tell me.” And here, again, her fear.

“I will not,” he replied, sweeping back toward her as thunder rumbled in from the ocean. “It would break your heart. And you know the answer already.” 

“You know that I don't. If you're trying to make me angry, you're definitely succeeding. Tell me where my friends are!”

“Or what?” He stepped close, crowded her back against the wall once more.

“Or I'll get it out of you somehow.” Her hand slipped down to press against his hardness, and in his shock, Jareth groaned aloud. “Or if you won't tell me, then send me back to my world.”

Her little face, so determined. Jareth laughed as lightning began to flicker outside.

“Ever the foolish girl,” he said, relishing the fury that kindled in her eyes. “No force in the Underground could make me do a thing I did not wish to do.”

But her gaze was hard as flint, and her hand continued to move, stroking his cock slowly through the silken fabric. “How long have you been alone here, Jareth?” she said as his eyes slid closed with the torment of it. “There's no one else in all the Labyrinth quite like you. You're by yourself, aren't you? Why?”

He caught her hand, held it away from his body, lest he lose control. “This is not...my native land. I am a prisoner here,” he said, breathing hard. 

“I'm not surprised. And what was your crime?” she asked, implacable. 

“I don't remember,” he said, willing her to feel the truth of it. “Whether I forgot during the passage of time, or whether the knowledge was taken from me, I do not know. The red book...” Jareth dropped her hand and turned toward the darkness. “They left me the red book when I was imprisoned here, and told me it was the key to my freedom. That I never forgot, though I do not understand how it is meant to work.”

“The red book...” Sarah stood before him, unthinking of her naked breast, so distracting. “I still have it. In my dresser drawer, at home. That book is yours?”

“I left it with you. Years ago.” 

“Why with me?” Her brow knitted. 

“Because I heard your dreams as I was winging over the human world. I sensed that you were one of the special ones. A dreaming girl, whom I could...” He showed her a feral grin. “Whom I could take.”

“And there have been others.” The dark emotion that seethed out from her now was difficult to define. She brought her hand to the base of her throat, covering that breast with her sleeve.

“Yes,” he said. “Many, over the years. None of them reached the castle, before you.” 

“What happened to them?” Outside the window, lightning flashed. Thunder followed, growing nearer.

“Most gave up. Fell into the Labyrinth's many traps, into fear and despair. I sent them back to the human realm, along with the stolen children. Some of them chose to stay in the dreaming bubble, donning a mask of their own and dancing forever among my memories of my kin. A few died in the Labyrinth.”

“They died?” Sarah whispered, a dull horror hanging over her words. 

“Oh, I restored them to life, of course. At great price. Centuries of fog and chaos before I regained my strength and rebuilt the Underground.” She looked up at that, frowning.

“The Underground is me, Sarah,” Jareth continued, spreading his hands to the boiling sky, the restless ocean. “It moves and breathes with me. Everything you see, I created out of the formlessness that came before. And every thinking creature in the Labyrinth sparked out of some passing thought of mine, some mood, some wish.” 

Sarah was silent for a moment as she considered this. “Then why do you take women from the human world?” she asked finally. “You're burning to touch me. I can feel it. Why don't you create a woman...?”

Jareth began to circle her slowly, exulting in the way she held herself stiffly, trying not to cower before him. 

“Such a wife would be little better than a doll,” he said as he circled. “Nothing there I did not make. And a doll cannot free me from this prison. As each girl failed to reach the center of the Labyrinth, I had to keep giving the red book to the next, and the next, to see if one of them could somehow become my key.”

Behind her, Jareth stopped, then snaked his arms around her. “But I care nothing for books and keys now, in this moment. I want you, Sarah. I want to possess you, body and mind.” 

Sharply, Sarah gripped his hand and guided it, past her waist and down the soft curve of her belly. “So I should let you rule me? Fear you, love you, do as you say?” Her voice echoed back from the cold stones.

Jareth exhaled forcefully by her ear as she pulled his hand down, finally sliding his fingers over the seam of her sex. Outside, a bolt of lightning, quite close at hand. 

“Let's make a bargain, Goblin King. I'll happily play your game. For one night. Then, you will set me free.” Sarah turned her head and looked him in the eyes. “It's not so earth-shattering, you know. It's just bodies. An itch to be scratched.”

“An itch, is it. Well, well. Little beast.” Jareth's mouth curved in amusement, even as his blood leapt in his veins. Now, after so many years, he had her where she belonged. Jareth gave a low hum of triumph. “I accept your bargain. But I must warn you, Sarah: this is no game.”

Holding her gaze, Jareth gripped her neckline again, then tore hard at the fabric. Why dissolve her dress into the air, when he could watch her face as he ripped it from her body? 

The ravaged garment dropped to the stone floor. Now, now he could slip his fingers inside the hot seam of her sex, make her moan. Ah, such a sweet sound. 

“Already so wet for me, my Sarah,” he sighed in her ear as she pushed her bottom against his erection. “Are all humans so willing and wanton as you?” 

“You never touched the other human girls? Hard to believe,” Sarah said, her gray eyes reflecting the storm outside. She turned in his arms, pulled at his clothing. Foolish thing. Even with her new bit of power, she had not learned much. He caught her hands and, with a thought, dispersed his clothing into smoke.

“I care little for what you believe,” he said, relishing her gasp as their bodies met, skin to skin. “But no, I never touched them. The customs among my people...” He looked away for a moment. No, he would not mention that to her.

But surely he could do as he wished with this girl, without fear of lasting consequence. After all, she was not of his people, but human. Better still, there was no hesitation in her touch, no maidenly shyness in her eyes. 

Best be sure, whispered a small part of his mind. The stakes are high.

&&&&&

“Sarah,” Jareth was saying as he stroked her back, cradled her bottom. “You have known the touch of another, have you not?”

“Of course,” Sarah replied. “Men. Many men.” What did it matter to him? She pushed out her chin and looked into his face, felt the rush of his victory even as she read it in those predator's eyes. “What---”

“And now you'll know my touch,” he said over her, his voice darkening. “After so long.” 

His eyes flickered, and between one moment and the next, a white bed appeared at their feet, seemingly woven of a thousand strands of spider silk. 

“One night, Jareth,” she said, her heart beating faster at the sight of that bed. Those mismatched eyes of his were fixed on hers, full of a feral glint that reminded Sarah: he is not of my world. He is powerful here, the king of this place. And he is far from human. 

“Yes. For one night, I will rule you. Now...get on the bed,” he told her, pointing, his voice quiet and full of command. Sarah shivered, and obeyed him. 

Settling herself on the silken whiteness, Sarah turned to look up at Jareth as he stooped over her like a hawk. He was strong and slender, as she'd known he would be. But more than that, his skin was pale as moonlight, and utterly hairless. So strange, so elegant. And tempting, the hard length of him, rising proudly between his legs. How would he feel inside her?

His eyes glittered, and in the next moment he was lunging to claim her mouth. Sarah let out a little cry against his lips, pulling his body down against hers. Oh, his skin was warm and petal-smooth, smelling of ice and ocean and stone. 

“Do you fear me?” Jareth said against her mouth. 

Sarah turned her face away. “No. No.” His fingertips on her neck, tracing over her pulse, now sliding down to grip her shoulders. He was bidding her to turn, guiding her to lie on her belly. He settled himself on her back, heavier than she thought he'd be. By instinct, she opened her legs, so eager for him.

“No, keep your legs together, Sarah.” One of his hands came to rest on her waist, and the other swept the heavy drape of her hair away from her neck. She felt his sharp teeth on the skin below her nape. 

“I said, legs together. And lift your bottom. Good girl.”

Sarah's eyes slid closed, and her lips parted to pant with her desire. She could feel him there, behind her, his cock sliding warm and silken between her buttocks. She felt him catch into the soft nook where her bottom met her thighs, felt the tip of him press against her wetness. 

“No more words now,” Jareth growled into her ear. His words were needless---her breath had almost ceased with her excitement. His hand was sliding under her belly; his fingers laced through the fine hair on her mound and slipped into the top of her cleft, licking at her little pearl. 

And as she cried out, Jareth pressed his hips forward, sliding inexorably inside her, releasing a groan of satisfaction into her shoulder. 

“Now you're mine.” His voice was low, ragged. “Do you feel it, Sarah? And are you not yet afraid?”

Sweet pressure on her bottom, lancing pleasure in her belly as his cock filled her and his fingers stroked her without mercy. “You---you can feel that I'm not afraid---” 

But now she lied, and he knew it. The pleasure he stirred in her body was sharp, unnatural, and yes, frightening. Sarah shivered under Jareth as he rode her slowly, his movements far too languid to slake the wild arousal that was cresting in her like a wave. 

A roar from the ocean outside, and Sarah turned her head to see that gray sea lifting, waves crashing and tossing spray up to the very sill of the window. She felt Jareth's hand sliding into her hair, gripping it tightly to keep her in place as he gave her maddeningly gentle thrusts. 

“Jareth,” Sarah moaned, watching those waves outside, feeling the cold wind on her face. “What are you doing to me? Why do I feel this way...?”

“I've done nothing, my girl. No magic here but what you have wrought,” Jareth sighed above her, and Sarah felt the truth of it from him. “Use your right words if you would bid me stop, just as you did before. But I know you will not.” 

“No. I want more. More.” Her hands clutched at the spider silk of the bed. “Please, Jareth.” 

Instead of moving faster, harder, as he must know she craved, Jareth released her hair and drew away. When she twisted to gaze at him, desperate, he met her eyes unsmilingly. 

“On your back, my girl,” he said, his voice thick with wanting. And Sarah turned, reached for him, pulled him down to her. 

With a sigh, he sank into her body, filling her again so that she gasped and lifted her hips to meet him. 

She should not open her mouth so willingly to his kisses, should not inhale his scent so hungrily. His hand at her cheek should not make her ache to open like a flower, should not drive her to arch her back and moan in supplication. It should not feel so delicious, so right, the sweet abandon of their coupling, the slick tightness of their connection. 

She had imagined Jareth's touch for so long, late at night, even in the arms of another lover. Even though she had been almost a child when he had kidnapped her---and Sarah shuddered, remembering how she'd fancied herself so grown up, and how wrong she'd been---he had awakened her desire, all those years ago. Jareth's watching eyes on her, his body swaying too near her own, the trials he'd tossed at her feet...he'd pushed her off-balance with their every meeting, shaken her to her core, fascinated her with the puzzle of himself. It had all begun with Jareth.

She'd been angry with him then, not understanding the game he'd wanted her to play, a game meant for those older and wiser. The woman-child had not known when to soften, when to follow his lead in their stolen dance of dreams, and when to turn hard as iron and raise her voice to say, go no further. 

But now, Sarah twisted her mouth away from Jareth's. Gathering her courage, she threw down a challenge the younger Sarah could never have understood. “If you wish to rule me, Goblin King,” she whispered, “show me your strength.” And, holding his strange eyes with her own, she raised her arms over her head in a silent invitation. 

Jareth's thin mouth opened in a grin that was almost a snarl. “Nothing could be more natural, my Sarah, than my power over you,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers as he reached up to grip her wrists, and to hold her arms hard against the silken bed. 

Sarah showed him her teeth, and tested him. With all her might she pulled against his grip, tried to wrench free, but his strength was steel, unyielding. And he laughed pitilessly as she twisted under him, enjoying her helpless moans of pleasure as he thrust into her body. 

“There now, my girl,” he purred, sliding his cheek against hers. “I give you everything you want. How generous I am, always, in my cruelty.”

She pushed back against him, against those narrow hips that fit so beautifully between her legs, wanting to beg him...more, harder. But surely he could feel her longing and use it against her, draw it out tight to drive her pleasure to unbearable heights.

“Will you use your words of power now? No, I can feel that you will not. Wet little thing,” he said as she gasped. “So very open to me, just aching to receive what only I can give you. I'll rule you yet, my sweet Sarah.”

For one night. The words died on her lips. She lifted her breasts to his questing mouth. 

The wind and ocean roared outside, stirring Sarah's hair against the bed, and the tower groaned around them. She turned her head and saw that gray waters had risen high, spilling over the sill of the great window into the high tower room and flooding around the bed. 

She gave a low cry of dismay, but Jareth only smiled. 

“What a storm you've stirred. So passionate,” he murmured against her throat. He lifted a hand away from her, and a crystal sphere appeared above his fingers. “Look into my crystal,” he bade her. “We'll go together.”

And it seemed to Sarah that white wings stirred to life, enfolded her, lifted her away from the tower and bore her away into darkness, to a place beyond shadows and silence, a place where a thousand cold white stars shone down upon a garden of night flowers. Jareth was speaking words she could not quite catch, leaning over her, and there was soft grass beneath her body. 

The delicate sounds of the night surrounded them as they lay there at the foot of a slender tree, with a great moon of glass shining between the branches. Jareth breathed with her, running his hands under her bottom, lifting her hips to press more deeply inside her. 

“Where are we?” Sarah whispered, drinking in the warm, wood-scented breeze. It was all so strange, yet so familiar...

“In my memory,” he answered, and Sarah felt a gentle wash of sadness from his heart. “A memory of...home.” He buried his face in her hair. “Hold me, Sarah. Hold me tightly.” 

Pity bloomed in her breast, catching her unawares. She twined her arms around Jareth's shoulders and bent her head to seek his mouth. 

But the white wings were rushing, stirring the air again, the wind of their movement covering the garden in a fog. Everything around them was glowing, shifting, then Sarah saw Jareth's pale hair lit by the fiery light of evening. 

A lowering sun warmed their bodies. Far, far beneath them lay a featureless ocean; far above, those same white stars. Jareth and Sarah floated together among pink-gold clouds. 

Unerringly, Jareth held her against him, and Sarah twined her legs around his body as they drifted in the upper airs, wrapped in each other, sharing their breath, their cries swept gently away by the vast wind that surrounded them in warmth. 

Sarah curved her back, slipped a hand down between their bodies to touch her center of pleasure. Jareth shifted to give her room, dropping his eyes to watch her. Oh, the tension was coiling in her belly, ever tighter, unbearable....

Just as Sarah was reaching after her peak, Jareth pulled her hand away, laughing at her shout of outrage and frustration. 

“Your pleasure belongs to me now, Sarah,” he told her, turning her body. Roughly, he entered her from behind once more. She moaned as he penetrated her anew, whimpered when those wicked fingers slipped again into her cleft. 

In moments, she was riding the very edge, shivering with the ache of it. She reached back to hold his hips, to urge him to move faster. 

“Beg me, my own,” Jareth was purring into her ear. “Beg me to grant you release.”

A flash of defiance, quickly drowned by the inexorable tide of her desperation. “Please. Please.” She'd never been so painfully aroused. “Jareth. I need to come. Please.”

“Ah,” he breathed. “That is lovely. Such sweet submission. My Sarah.” He prisoned her against his body, pierced her viciously. In the same moment, his fingertips swirled against her pearl, and Sarah arched back against him and cried out her ecstasy to the glowing sky. 

Jareth held her protectively as she trembled, helpless against the molten waves of pleasure that washed over her body and dazed her mind. Before it had subsided, Jareth was moving once more.

As he thrust inside her, slow and sensual, the glow around them was fading, darkening, the majestic vista contracting down to a chamber draped in peaceful gloom. The cool solidity of stone walls, the softness of a bed rising to meet her belly, her breasts, her face. A great bower of a bed, entwined with flowering vines...

Jareth's weight was delicious on her back, his voice lovely against her neck, her cheek. His hands reached up to grasp her wrists once more, encircling them gently; Sarah gave him a nod of consent, and his grip tightened. He was swelling in her, driving into her body with rising urgency. She turned her head, wanting to see his face, to watch the great Goblin King come utterly undone. 

Baring his sharp teeth, Jareth gave her a last, cruel thrust and, with an anguished groan, spent himself deep in her body. The hands that prisoned her wrists shook with effort as his hips pushed against her bottom, deeper and deeper still, making her cry out underneath him as he spilled in her. 

“Sarah, my own Sarah.” Jareth's fingertips were ghosting over her face, her parted lips. He lay atop her, relaxing into the curve of her body, as Sarah exulted in his worshipful touch, the pounding of his heartbeat against her back. For long moments they lay together, just breathing each others' scent.

Presently, Sarah stirred, and Jareth pulled away from her body to lie close beside her. She turned to him, touching his face and marveling to see its tender expression, so rare for the arrogant king. 

She stroked his brow, following the upward sweep to his temple and resting her fingers there. After a moment, she asked, “Jareth. Why do you have markings here?” 

He smiled, and touched her brow in turn. “Some of my people carry them. And why do you have no such markings? Nor horns, nor scales, nor the wings of a dragonfly?” His smile twisted into a grin.

“Humans don't have those.” She laughed softly. “But you have wings...”

“Yes. When I wish,” he said, stroking her flank. His hand moved over her belly, strayed downward. “You have hair here.” 

“Yes. Humans have it after childhood.” She blinked sleepily. 

“Did you have this hair the first time you came to the Labyrinth?” 

There was something guarded in his voice. “Yes,” she replied finally. “But I was very young then. Too young...”

“...For me to touch you,” Jareth finished, dropping his gaze. “I did wish to. Best I did not. I know little of humans, my Sarah,” he said, tracing the curve of her breast almost shyly. “You live for only a moment. I only knew that your dreams shone like a beacon...and that you were beautiful.”

Sarah said nothing. The heavy fragrance of the flowers that trailed up and down the bedposts and over the canopy was soothing, lulling. Jareth's hands were warm on her body. Her eyes closed. 

&&&&&

Jareth watched Sarah slide into sleep, helped along, no doubt, by the undying blooms of his bed. Even as he watched, more of the flowers opened, releasing their silent magic into the air of his bedchamber. 

He must not sleep. With a thought, he stirred the air, wafting some of the scent away and down the hall. No doubt he'd be stepping over sleeping goblins for days...

As the breeze played over her skin, Sarah shivered in her sleep. Jareth frowned, concentrated, and a cloud-light coverlet drifted down to settle over both of them. 

And now she was in his bed. Jareth cursed himself for a sentimental fool. Yes, the stakes were high. And by joining with Sarah, he'd raised them too far, past bearing. 

Oh, she was so lovely. She had surprised him, showing him a strength and a grace he'd never known she had. That moment when she'd invited him to hold her down...Jareth's heart clenched in his chest. Had she somehow grasped the mystery? That it took more courage to kneel than to stand? That in submitting to him, she'd made him her willing slave? 

The way forward is sometimes the way back. The words of the old prophet tore at his heart. Jareth smiled unhappily, looking down at his Sarah, his beautiful Sarah. He longed to stroke her hair, but did not. 

She had fulfilled her side of the bargain. But would it have been better never to have made such a bargain at all? He'd tasted her now, and she was too sweet. One more torment for him, and well deserved. 

Another thought, and Sarah was dressed once more in the simple white she'd arrived in. She stirred, not awakening, and Jareth steeled himself, gathered his power, opened the way. 

Then the bed was empty beside him, and their bargain was complete. Soundlessly, Jareth wept for her, his face a mask of stone.

&&&&&

Sarah started awake, her foot striking something solid and making the world shift beneath her. Gasping, she pushed herself upright, looking all around. 

She was out in the middle of the lake again, floating in her dory, the stars bright over her head. Her mouth fell open, and her eyes welled up. 

Curse that man, that arrogant bastard. Sarah kicked again at the prow, struck her fists against the sides. He'd sent her back, without even a word of farewell. Back to her dull, prosaic world, this world that had no goblins, or flying leaves, or water hags, or lonely towers, or mysterious Goblin Kings...

“Jareth,” she whispered. “I'm not...” She raised her voice, gazing up past the trees. “Jareth, I'm not done with you yet,” she called to the stars. “Bring me back. Jareth!” 

Her words echoed into silence, and the water lapped quietly against the sides of the dory. Sarah screwed her eyes shut, her hands shaking on the sides of the dory. 

Then her eyes snapped open. Carefully, Sarah climbed to her feet, standing upright as the little boat rocked underneath her. She looked up again, gathering everything she had learned in the Underground, and spoke in a clear, steady voice. 

“I wish to enter the Labyrinth.” She focused her will. 

And in the next moment, the dory lurched upward, empty.


	5. Chapter 5

The sudden transition from windless night to blazing daylight blinded Sarah, made her wobble and fall to one knee. Instinctively, she put out her hands to grab at the sides of the dory, lest she fall into the lake, but there was no dory, and her knee had met soft grass. Carefully, she opened her eyes once more.

She was kneeling on the bank of a swift river. The torrent of water roared over and around crazily faceted gemstones the size of boulders, egg-like and glittering in ruby and topaz and emerald and amethyst. Upriver, soaring mountain peaks pierced the sky; downriver, the water wound away between low, spreading trees crowned with blossoms in every color the eye could comprehend.

Sarah took a great breath, released it, and laughed aloud. Unmistakably, she was back in the Underground. No, she was in the Labyrinth itself, just as she'd wished for. Away beyond the trees, she spied winding walls of stone, and behind her---

“Queen!” said a little voice, some distance away. Sarah whirled. 

Standing on a path was a tiny goblin clutching a crude cloth doll. Its great round eyes were staring at her, and the small slash of a mouth hung open.

“Queen,” it said again, and looked down at the doll in its paw. The doll was dressed in gray and black, with a pale, grumpy-looking face, now well smudged with dirt, and a shock of white-blond yarn for hair. “Where king?” the small goblin asked, looking up at her again.

“Nimla, child! Where've you got to now?” Sarah heard from behind a dense shrub. A squat, plump goblin emerged and waddled over to the little one.

“Hi, Da. Queen, queen!” Nimla said, holding out her stubby arms, and the bigger goblin scooped her up.

“Yes, poppet. It's coronation time! Grammy will make you another doll to go beside that one,” the goblin said. Then he turned, seeming to see Sarah for the first time. He let out a deafening whoop and dashed away down the path, howling all the way. Nimla looked back at Sarah over her dad's shoulder, laughing with glee and brandishing her doll.

Sarah sagged. What now? These silly goblins were forever making assumptions about her. She slowly followed after the two goblins, reasoning that the path must lead to a village. She could at least ask the way to the castle. Surely not every goblin would run screaming from her.

She came to the top of a little rise and saw the round tops of huts appear between the trees. But a troop of goblins came rushing out of the village, trotting toward her and looking very determined. She did not have time to flee. In a moment, they had surrounded her and were pelting her with blossoms from the trees, all the time yelling something that sounded like, “All hail! All hail!”

“Ow,” she muttered as a particularly heavy bloom bounced off her forehead. She raised her arms against the flowery assault. “Stop it! I'll go away, I promise, just...”

A collective gasp of dismay from the goblins, and they stopped throwing the blossoms and were still. A tallish goblin wearing a weighty horned helmet stepped forward.

“Please, by queed,” he said; this particular goblin had no nose. “Please, do stay. We only bid thee welcobe to the village of Jewel River, and stadd ready to serve your every deed.” He swept a bow, and the rest of the goblins followed suit.

“Are you...the mayor?” Sarah asked the noseless goblin.

“The bayor!” crowed little Nimla from her dad's arms. He shushed her.

“Yes, I am the...bayor,” that impressive personage said stiffly, standing as tall as he could. He came up to Sarah's waist, not counting his helmet. “Bayor Beedo, at your service.”

She didn't dare attempt the noseless goblin's (possibly) unfortunate name. “Thank you...Mayor.” She looked around at all the little goblin faces. “I need to reach the castle. Do any of you know the way?”

“Why, by queed,” the mayor said. “Surely you already dowe all the secret paths. Has the kigg dot showed you everythigg?”

Sarah blinked. “Why would I know all the secret paths? And why do you keep calling me your queen?” She was getting a bit tired of that particular form of address, since it was untrue. “I'm not queen. I'm just Sarah.”

“Dodsedse,” the mayor exclaimed. It took Sarah a moment to understand that, but he was already nattering on. “Our kigg has fidally got hisself a queed! The dews has traveled throughout the kiggdub this last fortdight, and all shall celebrate!”

The group of goblins gave a raucous cheer, and the mayor grinned proudly. “Cub to the village, by queed, and view our lovely decorations. We'll bake you a dice cup of tea, with a biscuit besides.” He bowed and held out a clawed hand toward the grouping of huts.

Sarah stood silent, unable to give the mayor even a polite nothing. What did he mean, a fortnight? It had been only a few hours since Jareth had snatched her back to the Labyrinth. Only minutes ago, Sarah had been in Jareth's bed, underneath him...Even now, she could feel his seed trickling between her legs. She flushed.

Worse than that, why did these goblins seem to believe Jareth had taken her as queen? Even Toffin had not gone so far as to actually assume they were...married.

But as she numbly allowed the goblins to pull her by the hands between the huts, she saw that the village had indeed been decorated for a grand celebration. Cheerful ribbons were festooned over every doorway, and beflowered bronze bells hung from every branch of the great tree that overhung the village square. And paint had been daubed onto a hide that now hung from the eaves of the biggest hut, resulting in a truly appalling double portrait of Jareth and herself. At least, she was pretty sure it was meant to represent them.

The mayor saw her looking at the painted hide. “The royal couple,” he said, bowing to Sarah with a flourish. “You bust have edjoyed your huddeybood, you two! Doebody's seed the kigg in weeks,” he said, and winked. “Dot since...”

“Why does everyone believe we're married?” Sarah cried with a stomp of her foot. “I never married him.” And all around her, the goblins cried out in disbelief and dismay, making quite a clamor.

“Hush, all of you,” said a gravelly voice, cutting through the din. Much to Sarah's relief, the goblins instantly obeyed. Sarah turned toward the voice and saw a very old goblin emerging slowly from the dark depths of a hut, leaning on a stick. Turning to Sarah, the old one peered up at her through rheumy eyes.

“Come, dearie. Walk along with me a spell.” And the bent-backed goblin hobbled slowly between two huts and into the flowering wood, her long robe trailing.

Sarah stood still for a moment, then followed the old goblin lady. The others muttered quietly among themselves, but Sarah paid them no heed.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the village, the old one spoke up. “The name's Gram Allep. And you're Sarah. What's more, you’re a bit befuddled.”

“Yes, I am,” Sarah admitted, slowing her step to Gram Allep's snail pace. “Do you...can you tell me what's going on? Please.”

“Not exactly the right question, dearie, but old Grammy understands. If I seen one king's girl, I seen a thousand, and always confusticated, the poor things. Human ways are not our ways. I knowed that much.” Gram Allep flicked her walking stick to shoo away a hovering fairy.

“What do you mean? Please, Gram Allep. I need to know.”

“Well, dearie,” the old goblin said, looking at Sarah sidelong. “The reason all the kingdom is celebrating is because...you were seen.”

“What?” Sarah whispered, but she had a terrible notion that she knew exactly what Gram Allep meant.

“Yes, by a castle floor-sweeper, name of Hwygg. 'Bout a fortnight ago, he was sweeping (or so he claims) outside the royal bedchamber when he heard the king's voice, all sudden-like. He's a curious type, is Hwygg, and though he should have minded his business, he drew closer, and he saw...”

“Us,” Sarah finished, closing her eyes. Gram Allep patted her back.

“There, there. Don't worry, dearie. Hwygg didn't see much t'all, for he fainted dead away of the shock. But when he awoked and the king was nowhere to be seen, Hwygg ran about and told all who'd listen that for the first time, we had a queen. You mustn't blame him,” Gram Allep said. “It's all very exciting for us what lives in the Labyrinth, dearie.”

“But Gram...I didn't marry him,” Sarah said slowly. “What we did...there was no wedding.”

“Wasn't there?” Gram Allep said. “Ah. That there's the fog-up. Human ways are not our ways, not hardly. Sarah, dearie, among the Fae folk, what happened between you...well now, that's what makes a marriage.” Gram Allep's rheumy old eyes were kind.

“What...what.” Sarah's legs grew weak underneath her; she sat down hard on a mossy log. “I'm not married,” she murmured.

“Oh yes you are. Party, party!” exclaimed a tiny toadstool just beside her. On its round-topped head now grew a cone shape, purple and dotted, somewhat resembling a festive hat. As a chorus of nearby toadstools yammered joyously, Sarah saw that all of them sported the colorful, conical growths.

“Quiet, youse.” Gram Allep shook her stick at the toadstools, which subsided. “Dratted mushrooms.” She settled herself comfortably on a nearby stone.

“We made a deal,” Sarah said, looking down at the thick carpet of fallen leaves and petals. “Just for one night. He never said a thing about...marriage.” The deceitful bastard...

“Do you have the royal powers?” Gram Allep was peering sharply at her. “Could be a way to tell for sure, dearie. Now then,” she said, rummaging in the dreadful depths of her robe and bringing out two halves of a horn button. “Can you mend this here button for old Grammy?”

“Oh, yes,” said Sarah, and Gram Allep smiled to see the button lying whole in her grubby palm. “Now,” she said with a cunning glance, “make me a gold necklace.”

Sarah closed her eyes a moment, and Gram Allep cackled. Sarah opened her eyes to see the old goblin admiring the sparkle of her golden prize. She whipped it away inside her robe.

“Just one more task, dearie. Can you make this here leaf green again?” And Gram Allep held up a very brown, very dead leaf, right in Sarah's face.

“I don't...maybe.” She looked at the leaf, tried to imagine life flowing through it once more, filling its little leaf-veins and making it stand crisp and green...

And then it was done. The leaf lay in Gram Allep's hand, as green as any in the trees above, and Sarah slumped, suddenly so dizzy. She leaned on her arm, panting.

“There, there, dearie. New life’s easy, but bringing life back to what’s dead? That always wants a price. You'll be right as roses in a tick.” Gram Allep held up the leaf. “Welladay! I'll be keeping this for me grandchildren's own grands. What a prize, a leaf revived by the queen's own hand!”

Sarah gulped as Gram Allep's words sank in. “So, you think I’m the queen? That I'm...married to Jareth because I have this power? But Gram Allep, I could do some of that before he ever touched me.”

At that, Gram Allep cocked her gray head. “Hem, hem. That's a turn-up, now. Before he touched you at all?”

“Yes, I think so,” Sarah said, remembering the sudden appearance of the little bathing pond, just as she'd been wishing for a place to get clean. “Yes. I know I did. Before he so much as...took my hand.” She looked away, remembering how he'd touched her face, her body, that first time in the bathing pool she’d created.

“My poor dearie.” Gram Allep clutched her walking stick and got to her feet with a groan. “I haven't an earthly, then. By all other lights, you ought to be wedded to the king. But if you truly had the royal powers at the start...well, my girl, you had better ask the king himself. Where is he, anyhow?”

“I've not seen him since...since that night,” Sarah said, blinking. Time must run differently in the Labyrinth; it was the only explanation for losing two weeks in her few moments back in the human world.

“Oh, dear,” Gram Allep said, turning back toward the village. For the first time, she seemed truly worried. “If you don't know where he's been this last fortnight, dearie, then no one does.”

Sarah looked up the old goblin, opening her mouth to speak, but suddenly a great flash of light struck across the sky, sending a thousand clear blue rays between the leaves to the forest floor. Gram Allep gave a screech, dropped the stick, and clasped her hands.

“Spatters and rats, my girl, it's the Great Blue Glowing!” The old goblin craned her head in wonder. “Oh, it's as loverly as the tales say!”

Then the cold light faded and was gone, as quickly as it had appeared, and the wan sunlight of the Underground shone once more through the trees. Gram Allep gave a contented sigh.

“Never thought to see the Great Blue Glowing in me own lifetime,” she cackled. “I was born just after the last one. They come every thousand years, dearie. Regular,” she said. “But it's been just eight hundred years or so, unless the calendar goblins have been shirking...always possible. But really, it's come early. Fetch up that stick for old Grammy, there's a nice queen.”

“But what does it mean?” Sarah asked, catching up the walking stick and passing it to the old goblin. “And why would it come early?”

“Don't rightly know,” said Gram Allep. “But some of the old tales say the Great Blue Glowing comes when the king is talking to his true kin, away up in Faerie. If that's true, perhaps it's to do with you, my girl.” Gram Allep’s eyes were knowing.

&&&&&

Deep in the hollow of an ancient, twisted tree, a white barn owl huddled, turning its feathered face away from the blue light that filled the sky of the Labyrinth and reached even into the hiding place. By the thirteen hells, what did his jailors want of him now? They were hundreds of years too early for his routine humiliation, so they must have some special purpose, surely to his detriment. What more could go awry in these cursed days?

Well, he must answer their call. Slowly, reluctantly, the barn owl clambered out of the hole in the hoary old trunk. Spreading cramped, stiff wings, he took flight and was soon soaring over the treetops. He had little time to reply on his own before his jailors forced their presence upon them, but surely he could make it to the northern watchtower first. He'd much rather address the Trio there, in his proper Fae form, than as an owl perched on some dead branch in the blackest part of the forest. He had some shred of pride left, even after everything.

Beating his white wings to reach greater speeds, he flew past the old forest and out over the immense dunes, watching them fall away below him. The northern watchtower appeared on the horizon, its slim shape drawing closer and closer, until finally he alighted on the sill of the stone window in a flurry of feathers.

Rising then to his full height, clothing himself in silk and leather, Jareth looked about the stone room. So similar it was to the room where he'd taken his Sarah for the first time. His eyes closed in misery.

Shoving the thought away, he turned and placed his gloved hands on the windowsill. “Trio of Masks. Jareth awaits your word.”

In the wide sky before him, a door opened. Three masked figures stood above him, wreathed in the blue glow, indistinct. “Greetings, Jareth, now the Goblin King,” three voices said in unison.

Was that a touch of mockery? Jareth's lip twitched. “Bid welcome, Trio, to my humble domain,” he replied in the same spirit, sweeping them a bow.

“Indeed,” said the voices. “It is of your domain that we must speak, and quickly. We come on urgent business. Jareth, you must know that a human has entered this domain, unassisted.”

“Surely not,” Jareth said, frowning. “If you mean Sarah, the human girl, I sent her back to her world.” His hands clenched on the stone, trembled.

“She has returned,” the voices said. “Moments ago, she opened the way and passed into this domain by her own choice and power. Did you not feel it?”

Jareth’s mouth opened in astonishment; in the same moment, a strange surge of hope and, yes, pride in the girl bloomed in his breast. Not only had Sarah come back, but she’d managed it without his help...

But the Trio broke in harshly. “It is unacceptable that a human should gain such power, Jareth.”

“What do you care?” Jareth bit out. “What is it to Faerie if a human girl enters a prison domain? The path to their realm has always been open---”

“Open to you, Jareth. So that you may choose to cross over, to live and die as a human if an eternity alone becomes a burden too great to bear. You’ve done well here, as well as any at building a world and staving off madness, but still we leave you that last choice. We are not unmerciful, Jareth.”

The voices paused for a moment, but Jareth said nothing in return. He'd looked over that precipice many times over the ages, had come so close to seeking that fate, and yet....

The Trio broke into his dark reverie. “The way between your domain and the human world is not to be walked in the other direction, a rule you have flouted for long ages. And now, the result. Humans are dangerous, Jareth. They seek to conquer wherever they go. Too many times have they passed into Faerie, tricked their way under the hill or stumbled into the rings of stones, and shaken our world to its foundations. They have hearts of metal, minds like swords---”

“---My Sarah is not of that kind,” Jareth said, barely containing his indignation. “Her mind spins dreams and fancies worthy of the bards of old. She is willful, remarkable, full of courage and grace---” He stopped, pressing a fist to his mouth.

“You must banish her, Jareth. You must close the path to the human world, lock the way even from yourself, and so lose the choice to cross over. Or, if you prefer to leave that path open, or if you refuse to act at all, we shall kill her.”

“No!” Jareth slammed both fists on the stones. To be parted from her forever was bad enough, but for Sarah to lose her life would be a wrong past bearing. And for himself, he knew with a grim certainty, it would mean nothing less than the end of his every happiness. The Labyrinth would darken and rot, the sun would burn out, the storms would never end, and all of his subjects would starve and die---

“You can't,” he heard himself saying. “You simply can't. It would destroy me. It would destroy this domain. This girl...I would marry her, if I could marry a human.” He took a breath, then drew himself up tall, facing the Trio. “I would do anything to protect my Sarah. I'd die before I let you harm her.”

The Trio grew still. The blue light pulsed around them, and he knew that the members were talking among themselves, something they had never done before. He waited, unmoving.

Finally, the three voices spoke again. “You have taken this girl.” It was a statement of fact.

“I have,” he replied, just as plain. “She opened to my touch. I cannot tell you what this girl, this mere human, means to me. I have watched her for long centuries, as time runs here. She was the only one to reach the castle, to defeat me using the red book, the book you left with me. I beg you, have mercy.”

At that, the Trio withdrew again, spoke once more beyond his hearing. Jareth watched the sun sparkle on the waves of the unformed chaos, hardly daring to breathe as Sarah's fate, and his own, was weighed.

After moments that seemed like ages, the Trio raised their voices in unison. “The terms of your imprisonment are clear in this matter, Jareth. Where a way forward may exist, we may not bar the way to you.”

Excitement leaped in his breast to hear the Trio speak those fateful words. Did they mean... “The way to my freedom, to redemption from my crime?”

“That, we may not tell you.”

He would never see behind their masks, but by his people's laws, one of the three voices could possibly be someone he had wronged, so long ago. If that person so wished, they could stand as one of the Trio who kept him, watched him serve his sentence. Their idea of justice, Jareth supposed.

He snarled in frustration. “If you would at least tell me what my crime was, so long ago!”

The Trio seemed to sigh wearily. “Ever you ask, and never shall we answer.”

Jareth seethed in silence. He'd long suspected that he had not forgotten his crime over the ages, but rather that the memory had been taken from him. Why the Trio would choose to conceal the reason for his seemingly eternal punishment was beyond his understanding. And yet...

“You spoke of a way forward,” Jareth said, his mouth tight. “What is it?”

“A means for you to keep the girl, and to keep the path to the human world open. Jareth, hear us well. You must marry the girl, join her fate to yours. We have looked into her heart, and the power she has taken by sheer will makes her far more than an ordinary human. This time, when the rite is done, the bond will take hold. But she must come to you freely, in full knowledge of the meaning of the act. We give you three days.”

“Three days!” Jareth looked up at the Trio, aghast. “Say rather three centuries, or even three years. But three days is not time enough to court a woman!”

“You asked for leniency, and we have granted it. Three days.”

“And if I do not succeed?” Jareth's heartbeat was wild in his throat.

“Then banish her and close the way forever, or she dies. That is our offer. Do you accept it?”

“Yes,” Jareth said. “I will marry her, or close the way. I shall never allow her to die.”

There was a pause, then the three voices sounded once more. “Your willingness to sacrifice the final choice speaks well for you, Jareth. We are pleased that we agreed to listen when one of our number spoke for you.”

“Spoke for me?” Jareth peered up at those faceless ones who held his fate. A spark of insight, and a word sprang almost unbidden to his lips.

“Salendria?”

The Trio was silent. The sun danced on the water. Finally, Jareth said, “Forgive me. I know well that she who was once my wife cast me aside long ago. It was the height of presumption to speak her name.” He looked searchingly up at the Trio, now almost certain that the woman he'd once loved stood among their number.

But the Trio of Masks was gathering itself, opening the door again. “We leave you to your task, Jareth of the Goblin Kingdom. And we charge you to court this Sarah with all honor.”

“I swear it on my life,” Jareth said, and the Trio withdrew and closed the door behind them.

&&&&&&

Sarah lay limp in the shade of Jewel River's great tree, having her back patted by Gram Allep, who kept murmuring, “There there, dearie,” as if the gravelly words could do a single thing to control the storm of emotions that had felled her.

No sooner had Sarah returned to the village square with the old goblin lady when she'd been struck to her knees by wave upon wave of misery, longing, loneliness, resentment, rage and, confusingly, a fierce hope blended with despair. Nauseated, she'd swayed on her feet until the gabbling goblins pulled her to the tree, where they'd piled a bower of blossoms as a seat of honor.

The rainbow of flowers was surely staining her white dress, but Sarah couldn't care. The goblins were far from unkind, but they'd pressed in, offering cups of tea that smelled of dusty bark and cookies that looked as hard as river stones, at least until Gram Allep warned them back. The villagers now stood a few feet away, peering at her solicitously, knowing nothing of the tempest of feeling that Jareth was pushing onto her.

Oh, surely it was Jareth who was sending these horrible emotions, probably caring little that she was drowning under the flood. In the corner of her heart that she was still sure was her own, a flame of anger burned stronger. How dare he! Now she was stuck under a tree in a goblin village, hearing the goblins muttering amongst themselves.

“Is the queen quite well?” “Must be a mite sleepy.” “Or just peckish for one of my famous karbob biscuits! Why else come to Jewel River?” “Oh, shut up about your biscuits, Tolfy, no one ever eats them.” “But I'm almost sure they're edible.” “They're meant as cannon shot, Tolfy.” “Of course, but my recipe has got extra warts.” “Why hasn't the queen got any warts?” “Has she fainted?” “Ooh, perhaps she's in a family way!”

At that, Sarah jolted upright. This was utterly intolerable. Dizzily, she clambered to her feet, leaning on the tree. “I've got to get out of here,” she muttered, scarcely registering the goblins' excited cries over the roaring in her head.

Suddenly hands were supporting her, not goblin paws but strong, gentle hands. Leather-gloved...the scent of ice and ancient stone...

She pushed away from Jareth, staggering back to brace herself on the tree. “You stay away,” she told him, putting out a forbidding hand. “You manipulated me. You lied. You tried to trap me!”

“Sarah. My---” Jareth bit off his words, closed his eyes. He was paler, almost haggard, his eyes full of that mixture of hope, fear, and longing that still roiled uncontrollably in Sarah's heart. He stepped forward, heedless of the goblins who had fallen to their knees all around. “Please, Sarah. I beg you, hear me. Despite what my subjects have told you, we are not married.”

A collective howl of dismay arose from the villagers. “By kigg!” cried the mayor, bobbing up at Jareth's side. “Surely it's dot true!”

Jareth blinked, and much to Sarah's relief, he turned away to address the noseless goblin. “Ah. Mayor...Meeno, was it?”

“Beedo,” the mayor said with a sniffle.

“Quite. Well...mayor, I'm sorry, but you have been misinformed,” Jareth said quietly, glancing at Sarah. “This woman is not my wife.”

“But...Your Bajesty!” the mayor cried, wringing his clawed hands, tears trickling down his noseless face. “Do you dot love her?”

“Yes, mayor. I love her with all my heart,” Jareth said, facing Sarah, and a spark thrilled through her bones, stealing her breath. He held her eyes a moment, then continued.

“Sarah. I have been less than forthcoming with you, to my own dishonor. But I never meant to deceive you. Or to force you in any way, without your consent.”

Jareth's eyes held hers, and Sarah flushed to remember how she'd willingly offered up her submission to him, trading power for pleasure, only hours ago to her.

“My long-beloved Sarah,” Jareth said, holding out a hand, his voice deep and steady despite the fear that echoed into her own heart. “Will you do me the matchless honor of becoming my queen?”

Sarah bridled. After all he'd done, how dare he ask that here, now, surrounded as they were by nattering goblins? The villagers were now cheering and shouting, “Yes! Yes! Say yes!” Her head ached with the yammering. With all that she was feeling from Jareth, she could not doubt his sincerity, but somehow that was worse....

Overwhelmed, Sarah sagged against the tree. Then Gram Allep was at her side. Lowly, she heard the old goblin mutter, “Right royal cock-up, this, eh, dearie?” She nodded at Sarah. “Go on, then. Don't be feared. Do as ye must."

Sarah squeezed Gram Allep's little paw in thanks, then slowly walked away from the tree as the villagers parted before her. Doing her best to sweep past Jareth where he stood, still holding out his hand, she moved faster as her dizziness ebbed and sought the path out of the village.

It wasn't far to the river, but before she was halfway down the path, Sarah heard Jareth's voice behind her. “Wait. Sarah, please stop.”

She ignored him, walking as fast as she could, making for the spot on the riverbank where she'd arrived. Should she simply leave the Labyrinth, go home to her own world? Not a chance, she decided. She'd only begun to discover the powers she held here, and she did not intend to miss out on the fun. As for Jareth...she was not done with him yet, the arrogant, high-handed bastard.

As she stopped on the grass at the water's edge, Sarah saw the sunlight catching into one of the faceted gemstone boulders. The rays were kindling a glow of ruby fire at the boulder's heart, and a wild idea popped into her head.

“Sarah,” Jareth said, stopping some distance away. Good, he was beginning to learn respect. Sarah said nothing, turned to the house-sized ovoid ruby, and concentrated.

“Please listen. Surely you misunderstand, Sarah. I never meant to deceive you. My subjects must have...got wind of what we did, and...” She heard his indrawn breath. “No matter what else goblins may be, they are unfailingly enthusiastic. I fear that when you returned and saw their preparations...”

“...That I got the wrong idea?” Sarah snapped, finally turning to him. “The act makes a marriage among your people, but you said nothing about that. I had to learn it from a goblin! And the way you touched me, Jareth...you can't tell me I was your first. If we're not married, does that mean you're married to someone else? Where is your lie, Jareth?”

Jareth's teeth flashed; oh, that was a sore spot. “I am not married now. I was, once.” His eyes drifted away down the river. “She cast me off, likely when I was imprisoned. But surely I was married more than once, somehow, for I do remember...” He stopped for a moment, his eyes on the flowering trees. “I have memories of two women. Yes.”

“Three women, now,” Sarah said, rather bitterly.

“Do you regret it?” Jareth said, still looking at the trees, but Sarah felt the surge of emotion from him. After a moment, she replied.

“No,” she said quietly. “It was...beautiful. I don't regret it. I'd...I'd do it again.” Inwardly, she marveled at herself. She'd never spent more than one night with a man before, never even wanted to. Nettled without knowing quite why, she looked up at Jareth, almost in challenge.

She saw hunger in his eyes then, but he spoke urgently. “Sarah. I was just contacted by Faerie. They told me...they told me that your power has grown far beyond that of a mere human. If I join with you again, we'll be bound together.”

“You're a prisoner, so you must have been talking to your jailors. And they said you could marry a 'mere' human? And that's the reason for all that anger and despair, was it?” Sarah said, though she knew it wasn't true. Turning away, she shoved away shame at her own pettiness.

“I misspoke. Forgive me,” Jareth said humbly. “I do hold you in the highest regard, Sarah.”

“You kidnapped me. You demanded my love and tried to humiliate me when I refused it. Then after you'd finally gotten your way, you threw me back into my world without a single word.” She took a step toward him. “How is that your 'highest regard?'”

Jareth said nothing, but his gaze grew steely. “Willful girl,” he said, his teeth glinting in a feral grin. “Even now, you run from me. How can I not give chase?”

“You're still lying to me about something,” Sarah said. “I can feel it, Jareth. You're not telling me something, and it's really important. Jareth,” she said, hazarding a guess. “Are you lying about being married to someone else?”

“No, Sarah. Impossible.” Jareth said, drawing himself up, proud and graceful. “If I were, I would never have touched you as I did. Among my people, to join with one woman while married to another would be the deepest betrayal...an unthinkable crime.”

“Well, Jareth,” Sarah said acidly. “You say you have memories of more than one woman. So perhaps that was your crime.” And Jareth looked back at her, aghast.

Behind Sarah came a cataclysmic sound, cracking through the air like a shot. Turning, she smiled in satisfaction to see the round ruby boulder bursting apart. The struggling shape inside unfolded a sinuous neck, spread open a pair of leathery, red-gold wings. Sarah laughed with happiness. 

“Come to me,” Sarah called to it, holding out her arms. And the immense form of the great red dragon shook off the last of its ruby egg and came clambering toward her on scaly legs, heedless of the river, which for the dragon was only a rivulet.

As Jareth stood stunned, Sarah laid a possessive hand on the great spiky head, looked lovingly into the dragon's slitted eyes. Yes, she had succeeded! Before her bowed the red-gold dragon from one of her favorite movies. Well, perhaps he was a bit smaller than that dragon's calamitous size. And while the movie dragon had had golden eyes in keeping with the original book, Sarah had given her own creation eyes of a certain heart-stopping shade of pale ocean-blue. A bit self-indulgent, perhaps, she thought, smiling. But he was her dragon, and she'd do as she liked.

“Are you ready?” Sarah asked her stupendous creation, wanting to hear if she'd got the voice right. 

“I was born ready,” the dragon replied, and Sarah grinned even wider to hear that deep, beautiful sound. 

Another thought, and now there was a saddle on the dragon's back. The dragon bowed low, and Sarah climbed nimbly up.

Jareth looked a lot smaller from her seat, now high off the ground. He was still struck silent with astonishment, his eyes locked on her. Waves of disbelief poured off him, and under her pride Sarah felt a prickle of irritation. Well, since Jareth now seemed so eager to please and placate her, maybe she could get him to do something about the unwanted connection.

“Jareth. I'm sick of feeling your emotions,” she called down to him. “It's confusing and actually pretty awful. So find a way to stop that from happening. When you have, maybe I'll talk to you again.”

Jareth opened his mouth to speak, but Sarah was done with him for now. She leaned down to speak to the dragon.

“Let's fly,” she said, and held on tightly.

“With greatest pleasure, mistress,” the dragon replied in that gorgeous thrumming voice, and Sarah thrilled to feel the great gather of muscle underneath her. In the next moment, her dragon sprang off the ground, beating those catastrophic wings and leaving Jareth far, far below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that you say, alert reader? You say this story's timeline places us in the mid-Nineties, so Sarah couldn't have seen THAT movie with THAT dragon? I have no idea what you're talking about, hon. There are so many movies that feature red dragons! La la la... *hums blissfully to self*


	6. Chapter 6

Jareth slammed the last tome shut with a dusty bang, and pushed it away across the rough table. Lifting his eyes to the long lines of shelves stretching away into the dimness, each holding hundreds of books penned in his own spidery handwriting, he rested his chin on his folded hands. He was no closer to finding the reason behind his and Sarah's unwanted empathic connection than he'd been yesterday, when he'd entered his library. 

Of course, it meant little that he could not find the answer in his own tomes of lore. He'd written them all himself, after all, from memory, in the early days of his imprisonment. Frightened by the knowledge that he would be alone for eternity, aware that others in his position were said to forget their own names, he had conjured blank tomes by the dozen and filled them with all the magical lore he'd ever been taught. For endless nights and days with only his conjured light for company, he'd recorded every scrap of knowledge he could recall, along with history and legend, songs and epic tales, descriptions of the great domains of Faerie, genealogies of its rulers...everything he'd held in his mind, he'd written down against the long, dark times ahead. 

But there was seemingly nothing in his library about two people suddenly feeling each others' emotions, most especially the strong emotions, and certainly nothing about how to sever such a connection. Jareth's hands clenched on the table. He must solve the conundrum, and soon. He had no doubt that Sarah would hold to her threat and refuse to speak to him again until their connection was gone. And only two days remained until he must send her back to her own world and seal the way behind her. 

Jareth let out a shaky sigh, glad that Sarah could not see him like this, even though she could surely feel his despair. Closing the way to the human world would cut off his one escape route to an honorable death, should he choose it. Oh, he knew of humans who'd been born Fae, who had made that crossing---he'd even met one or two of them in his travels. Their lives tended to be brilliant: often they became musicians and actors, geniuses and rock stars. Immortals in now-mortal bodies, bodies that would finally age and die, releasing their souls. Jareth's realm was now rich and populated, and he felt a responsibility to his subjects to stay alive, to preserve the Underground. But knowing that he could leave someday had made it all easier, somehow.

But far more than his escape route, Jareth wanted to keep Sarah, the beautiful dreaming girl. He wanted to show her wonders she'd never imagined, crown her with starlight, kindle the fire of immortality in her breast. He wanted to know her innermost mind, drink from her cup, sire children on her. Together they'd travel between his realm and hers, exploring and creating, skipping over vast reaches of time like stones over a pond. Together, they'd watch the world end. 

But only if he could convince her to take him in marriage before two more days were out. And as of this moment, she would not even speak to him. 

Jareth covered his face with his hands. It seemed impossible, the problem intractable. No external force of magic could have given rise to this connection...unless...

Lifting his head, Jareth stood and walked over to a shelf in the far corner of the vast room, his light following him all the way. He found the tome he wanted, then stood for a moment with his hand on its spine. Could it be?

Though the idea was a bizarre one, and fanciful, he had nothing better to explore. Taking a long breath of the dusty air, Jareth pulled down the tome, opened it, and began to read.

&&&&&

Sarah lifted her chin to the wind, letting it lift her long hair. She was seated on the roof of the castle she had claimed as her own, the castle of glass perched midway down a cliff that overlooked a vast lake. Silken pillows and bedding cradled her, warmed her, entirely filling the curve of the little bed-nook she'd carved here. Starlight glimmered blue over the faceted curves of the glass roof, throwing tiny sparks of light everywhere she looked. 

Behind and above her, the great red dragon slept contentedly on the vast ledge she'd conjured for him. No surprise that her dragon slept well; they'd spent the day and much of the night flying everywhere in the kingdom, now soaring high into the clouds, now swooping low over glittering deserts, then flying along the coastline for hours. Both Sarah and the dragon had taken wild joy in their freedom, and though she could feel Jareth's growing despair at whatever it was that he was doing, the contrast between his emotion and her own had been drawn so clearly that, for the time, she'd been able to put him aside. Still, she could not forget that this land, this strange, beautiful world...in a very real sense, every part of it was him. 

When Sarah had finally grown tired, she'd asked the dragon to bring her back here, to the beautiful glass castle she'd first seen while soaring on her leaf. It turned out to be empty of occupants or furnishings, and some of the rooms seemed half-finished, as if Jareth had abandoned the project partway through. But there was a village of little round-faced folk, milder and more placid than goblins, clinging to ledges and growing up into the trees that clustered around the castle. They seemed unafraid of the dragon and Sarah herself, greeting her as queen and bringing her goat cheese, nuts, and tree fruit on leaf platters, and a goat for the dragon. 

The dragon had devoured the goat whole and demanded ten more. Alarmed, Sarah had conjured a large flock of identical goats, giving three to the delighted villagers and letting the rest roam free in the great valley below. When the dragon had hunted his fill and returned to Sarah, he had asked her two perplexing questions. 

“What is my name, mistress?” he had rumbled in the deep, beautiful voice she'd given him. 

“Ah,” Sarah had replied, looking into those aquamarine eyes. It had never occurred to her to name him; now she felt faintly ashamed. “Tim. Your name is Tim,” she said finally, thinking of a wizard in a funny movie she'd seen. Between that, and other associations, it seemed fitting. 

“Timmm,” the dragon had purred, pleased. “Now, Mistress Sarah, may I have a mate?”

Sarah had been silent a moment. “Why?” she'd asked, finally. 

“All beings desire a mate,” Tim the dragon had said, as if it were indisputable truth. “You do.”

“I don't, actually,” Sarah murmured. “But yes, of course you can have a mate, if you want one. Tomorrow we'll return to Jewel River.”

“Yes. She shall be born from sapphire,” decreed the dragon, “even as I was born from ruby, and be as brilliant and beautiful as I, and together we shall rule the skies of this domain. But who shall ride her?” 

Sarah had sighed. “Let's go to sleep, Tim, and decide tomorrow,” she'd told him. Trust her own creation to start asking inconvenient questions. 

Sarah had other things to think about. She'd had her dragon land in ten different goblin villages, and everywhere she'd asked for news of Sir Didymus, Ludo, and Hoggle. Some had recognized the names from legends of the Great Battle of Goblin City, but none had actually seen them, or could tell her where they might be found. And slowly, reluctantly, Sarah began to wonder whether her friends still existed at all. 

What had Jareth said about it? That she would not like the answer, that it would break her heart. Well, perhaps he'd been right. Sarah had been looking for them for days now, and had little to show for it. 

The goblins all talked about the battle as if it were long, long ago. Had her friends died of old age, then? Surely not; Gram Allep was at least eight hundred years old, as she'd said, and Sarah herself had met a goblin who had fought in the great battle...sort of. So where were her friends?

And surely Jareth knew. Jareth was hiding something from her, something very important. She had felt that from him as if it were written across his heart. Even now she could feel his anxiety, though in the last minutes she'd felt a vague hope along with an avidity, a thirst. 

That thirst felt much like the lust she remembered sparking between them, the fire they'd made. Sarah sighed to remember the ecstasy of his touch, thrilled to recall the power over her that he'd taken when she'd offered. She remembered the way the waters had risen around the tower, and the wondrous journey he'd swept them into, even into his own memory of his lost home. 

She'd pitied him, then, for a moment, before he'd taken her up into the sky. 

Jareth was so alone. Prisoned here for ages upon ages, he was deeply lonely. The emotion ran like a gray thread through everything she felt from him. She supposed she couldn't blame Jareth for seeking company from human girls, though she could certainly fault his methods. But what he'd said about the red book...Had he said that it was the key to his freedom? Somehow, Sarah herself was mixed up in that, she knew. 

Sarah sipped at the cool water the villagers had brought her, along with the other simple foods that now sat on a low table she'd conjured. She'd eaten her fill, despite recalling the old legend that warned never to eat the food of the fairy kingdoms. Legend or no legend, Sarah wasn't about to go back to the drab human realm just to eat a meal. For now, she'd take her chances with the goat cheese.

She could spend as much time here as she liked, it seemed, while her old life waited for her. Time moved faster in the Labyrinth. The few moments she'd spent in the dory had been a fortnight here; the near-decade since she'd returned with Toby had become centuries. Sara smiled to herself. If she were to go back to the human world for a few hours, it would likely be years for Jareth. He'd miss her then, wouldn't he, as much as she missed him now. Perhaps she'd try it. 

Well, perhaps tomorrow. She was sleepy now, and she had just promised Tim a mate from Jewel River. And she loved it here, really, loved the Labyrinth and the greater Underground. She'd flown over a hundred places she wanted to explore, and exulted in the knowledge that she herself had created the beautiful dragon she flew with, that she could make and change and alter and re-form the very substance of this world. She'd belong here, maybe, if it weren't for that overbearing, fierce, passionate, terrifying, beautiful Goblin King...if only he would let her remain free. 

The wind caressed her hair gently; the starlight touched her face with soft fingers. Sarah nestled deeper into the silken bed, and closed her eyes. 

&&&&&

The stars were still burning overhead, the horizon just starting to pale in the east, when Jareth arrived at the glass castle. He stood silently, watching Sarah sleep, the soft breeze lifting his robes, his hair.

All the dread, all the agitation he'd been feeling when he set out...all of it ebbed quietly away from him in this moment. The air was calm, filled with the soft sounds of the night. Sarah's breath flowed smoothly, and the rich drape of her hair was touched with reflections from the glass castle itself. Jareth sat tailor-fashion, folded his hands, and watched her sleeping face. This lovely face...In waking it was so fierce, so challenging, but here, suddenly, it was a face of which Jareth was no longer afraid.

An odd idea, that, that he could be afraid of his Sarah. He, the Goblin King, author and absolute ruler of this domain, afraid of a human girl. But she held his fate, he thought absently as his eyes traced the curl of her fingers next to her face. His fate, and now his heart.

Her eyes opened then, and found him watching her. Sarah said nothing, but continued to breathe evenly as she rested her eyes on his face. Calm and peace flowed between them, there under the starlight. 

Presently, Sarah reached for him, silently beckoning. Jareth moved to join her, slipping under the silken covers. Her arms twined around his shoulders, touched his face, his chest. He felt the soft, sleepy warmth of her, breathed in her scent. 

“I dreamed of you, just now,” she told him lowly. 

“Oh?” Jareth said. 

“I dreamed that you were flying with me, on a blue dragon, far out over the gray ocean. And we found an island that you had never seen before. You said it was my island,” Sarah told him.

“It may be there now,” Jareth said. “Your island, out in the unformed. The power of your dreams is beyond measure, Sarah.”

She cast her eyelashes down, and twined her fingers with his. 

“How are you?” he murmured against her ear. His clothing was gone, somehow, and his skin lay against hers...tender, soothing. 

“Doing okay,” she sighed. She shifted, laid her head on his arm, so that their foreheads touched. “Yesterday, I flew everywhere with my dragon. This world is so beautiful, Jareth. And you made it all. I kept...I kept thinking about you.”

“Yes,” Jareth said, remembering the joy he'd felt from her during his hours with his books. “I missed you as well. Will you kiss me?”

Sarah smiled, and met his mouth with hers. Sweet, she was so sweet. His Sarah.

“Can I still feel you?” Sarah asked, when their lips parted. “I can't...it seems...”

“The connection goes only one way, now,” Jareth said, running a hand down her cheek. “I can still feel you. But you cannot feel me. I found the answer, Sarah. In a very old story. But somehow I find,” Jareth said, looking away from her eyes, “that I am afraid to tell you of it.”

“Then don't,” Sarah said. “Not yet. Jareth, please touch me.” 

“But you do not wish to be my wife,” Jareth said, wishing she could feel the glow of his hope at her words. 

“No, not...” Sarah closed her eyes. “Just touch me. Please.”

And Jareth let his hands wander everywhere over her warm body, her skin glowing with his touch, her arousal soft and full of strange emotion, sounding in his heart like a low rushing of water. 

His mouth on her breasts, then, and moving down the curve of her belly. And finally he parted her legs, tasting her there, slipping his fingers deep inside her, until she called her longing to the brightening sky. 

Her heart was so open to him, though his was now unreadable to her, and when she lifted her hips to meet his mouth, sighing his name at her peak, Jareth nearly wept. Her wild, free heart was overflowing with her passion, carrying with it the spark of something unnameable, something he'd never felt from her before. 

She laid him back, then, and feasted on his body, her warm mouth caressing him, lifting memory from the deepest, hidden places in his heart. Forbidden knowledge, what he had tasted those ages ago, what he held in his mind now. He cried out his release, his hands buried in the miracle of her hair, his heart achingly full of her, only her. 

“I love you, Sarah, my Sarah,” he murmured, when they again lay still. 

“If you love me, Jareth,” she said, looking at him from her pillow, “you need to tell me everything. About my friends, about what the people from Faerie said to you, the connection we had...still have, on your side. Everything. Please. Don't hold anything back, not anymore.”

The light of dawn broke over them, there where they lay entwined. And Jareth took a last breath, and began.


	7. Chapter 7

Dawn lanced into the mouth of the ravine, transfixed the soaring spires of the glass castle that clung to the sheer rock face. The glass facets and curves threw light everywhere, dappling over Jareth and Sarah where they lay wrapped in silken bedding. Holding Sarah close, Jareth intoned an ancient verse lowly in her ear.

“In prison’d darkness, Fenn enchained  
Heart-blind to Feanna, where she stood  
Her dagger drawn, to storm the keep  
She heavy with his misery.  
The Throne decreed, as well she knew,  
Twinned hearts like open’d windows be.  
Now solely she had drunk the cup.  
Thus close’d his eyes, so passion were  
Not forced on him, but earn’d by deed.”

“‘What does it mean?” Sarah murmured against Jareth’s neck, her fingers threading through his pale hair. 

_“The Lay of Feanna and Fenn_ is a very old legend of my people, almost forgotten now,” Jareth said. “It tells of a man and woman who were bound by the Overthrone to marry, to heal a great feud between their houses. But instead they resisted, hating each other for a thousand years. They started a great war over it. It’s a ghastly story.” 

“What’s the Overthrone?” Sarah asked. 

“A bard’s name for the force that moves us all along our paths,” said Jareth, lifting a hand to the lightening sky. “Fate, one might call it. In the old tales, the Overthrone intervenes very directly.” 

Sarah’s eyes narrowed. Fate? “So what was that part about a prison, and hearts like open windows?” 

Jareth glanced down, away. “The story says that when Feanna and Fenn first refused to marry, the Overthrone forced a heart-resonance upon them. Much like our own.” He looked out over the brightening land as he continued. “After many lives were lost, Feanna finally accepted that she was meant to be with Fenn. Thus for him, the connection was broken. He could no longer feel her heart where he lay in his dungeon, though she still knew his pain.”

“Wait. She accepted it...so then, he couldn’t feel her?” Sarah asked, a little confused.

“Just so,” Jareth said. “Fenn still resisted their bond, even after Feanna rescued him. He was made blind to her heart for the sake of free will, strange as that sounds. If Fenn had felt the great flood of Feanna’s love, he would be drowned in it. He’d love her helplessly, the connection warping his heart. Feanna was thus charged by the Overthrone to win him by her actions, not through the connection.”

“So the fact that I no longer feel your emotions…” Sarah looked into Jareth’s hungry eyes. “If somehow we’re like the couple in the story...Does that mean that you…?”

“That I’ve accepted that we are bound to each other. Yes.” Jareth ran a reverent hand over the soft curve of her shoulder. “When I read it again after all these centuries, I knew the truth of it. And thus my heart was hidden from you.”

“So we’re...what? Soulmates?” Sarah’s face crumpled in disgust. “Fated to be together for some mysterious purpose? No,” said Sarah, sitting up and throwing off the silken coverlet. “I won’t accept that. There’s no throne in the sky that’s moving me around like a game piece, Jareth.” She stood, moved away, clothed herself with a thought.

Jareth reached out a hand as if to catch at hers, then snatched it back, balling it into a fist. “More than likely, the Overthrone is just a bard’s fantasy,” he said tightly, watching her as she walked to the edge of the parapet. “You are free to choose, always. If you leave the Underground now, the connection between us will be broken forever.” He swallowed hard, looked down. 

“But I could never come back,” Sarah said over her shoulder. 

“No,” Jareth said. “You could never return, nor could I ever again travel to the human world. If you leave, my jailors require that I close the way behind you.”

“So the Underground is all you would have, forever? You could never give the red book to another human girl,” Sarah said to the rising sun. 

“That’s right,” he said quietly. 

Sarah stood still, looking east, watching the rays of the sun touch the walls of the ravine, setting the lake’s waters afire. This land...so beautiful, so magical. And every inch of it created by this singular man. After a long moment, Sarah said, without turning her head, “Would you give me time to decide?”

She heard his sharply indrawn breath, the rustle of his movement. But the silence went on too long, and Sarah turned to face him where he stood, clad again in his silk and leather. 

“Sarah,” Jareth said, his face drawn and pale. “My jailors gave me another rule, a way for you to stay in the Labyrinth, and for me to keep open the path to the human world. It is...regrettable…”

“Tell me, Jareth,” Sarah said, frowning at the terror in his eyes. 

“I would not have wished for this,” Jareth said, tearing his gaze away to rest on the wall of stone above. “I think it improper, and unfair---”

“Unfair,” Sarah echoed softly, shaking her head, remembering his words on the subject of _fairness_ so long ago.

“---but they have granted us only three days. To marry, or to part forever. I am sorry, Sarah. I wish it were not so.”

Numbly, Sarah looked at her hands. After a long moment, she spoke, hardly hearing her own words. “How much time is left?”

“Two days remain,” Jareth said softly. His face was slowly filling with something like hope.

“Only two days…” Two days to decide whether to leave the Labyrinth forever, or to bind herself to this strange, passionate, fascinating, infuriating Goblin King. “It’s impossible, Jareth. I can’t make that kind of decision so quickly.”

“Nor should you be required to,” Jareth said bitterly. “Would that I could court you properly, Sarah. For years, centuries, on bended knee. Writing epic poetry in ode to your spirit and beauty, shaping constellations in your image, carving a castle for you without magic, with my own two hands. Oh, Sarah, I’d court you as richly as you deserve. But they’ve stolen that from us. From me!” His fist struck the glass. 

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Sarah cried, feeling panic clutch at her throat. 

“I had hoped to win your hand honestly, without duress,” Jareth said, sounding almost angry. “Though I knew it was only a fool’s hope, I had to try. My Sarah.”

Sarah tore her eyes away from his. Trust Jareth to hold back this kind of information, to grow painfully proper at this late hour. He loved her. She knew it in her bones. But though just moments ago she’d lain willingly in his arms, now she felt a wild urge to run, run far away from him, to escape the prison of his love. 

“Sarah, please,” she dimly heard him say. “It need not be as you fear. I’ll not rule you---”

“Jareth, how can I trust anything you say?” Sarah cried. “Not long ago you demanded power over me---”

“I was blind before we joined. Before I believed I’d lost you forever,” Jareth said. “Blind to what you mean to me, how deep your power is rooted in my Underground. I’d not wish to tame you, even if I could. Sarah, please listen. If you would marry me, you’d have your own home in this domain. A new continent, if you so choose, where I could not set foot unless invited. You could create your realm just as you like, shape the land, found entire cities---”

“But what about the friends I’d want at my side?” Sarah asked, seeing her chance to finally get an answer to the most important question of all. “Hoggle. Ludo. Sir Didymus. Where are they, Jareth? You refused to tell me before, but I swear I will leave the Underground this moment unless you tell me now!”

Jareth stiffened, his pale face gleaming with the touch of the sunlight. “Forgive me. I had hoped to spare you this,” he said, his eyes grown empty, despairing. “Sarah, your friends...they no longer live.”

“What,” Sarah whispered, cold clawing at her stomach. “What.”

“They were yours, Sarah. Your creations. The first time you came to my Labyrinth, you called them into being, unknowingly. It often happens so when humans travel here. And afterward...Sarah, you had gone, and so they faded.”

Sarah could not breathe, could not answer. Jareth spoke on, his voice hollow.

“Did it not seem strange to you that whenever you needed a friend, a friend appeared? Think on it, Sarah. When you wished to rescue Ludo and wanted something to throw, did it not happen that suddenly he could call a rock for you? When you needed to escape the Bog of Eternal Stench, did a path not appear, guarded by a frivolous knight who rode a dog identical to your own pet? Did you not notice that each of your friends was one of your childhood toys brought to life?”

“Hoggle,” Sarah whispered, seeing his gnarled face in her mind, remembering how Jareth had seemed not to know his name. “He...he showed me the way into the Labyrinth. He had a life of his own, Jareth. Opinions, fears and wishes. How could he fade?”

A foul taste was rising in Sarah’s throat. Disgust, horror at this, the ugliest side of her powers in the Labyrinth. The power to create beings, and then by her neglect, to let them fade to nothingness….

“Hoggle was the first you created, and the most complex,” Jareth said. “He would have been the last to go.” 

Sarah let out a sob of anguish, remembering the way her friends had slowly grown distant, quiet, harder to see in her mirror. How they had had little or nothing to say, in the end, before they’d disappeared entirely. 

“What about Tim?” Sarah said, her voice choked as she pointed up to where the great dragon slept on. “My dragon. Will he fade too?”

Jareth’s face told her all she needed to know. Sarah whirled, too blinded by tears to see even the glass castle under her hands, this castle that clung so precariously to the cliffside.

Wisely, for once, Jareth stayed silent as Sarah grappled with her grief. He was right---all her friends had looked like her toys. She’d realized this, of course, but had vaguely believed that they had come to her by some magic, taking the shape of the beings she’d one day meet. Not the other way around…except...

“Wait,” Sarah said, and dashed away her tears as she turned to face him. She felt as though she were going crazy, but---

“Jareth, you yourself look a lot like a statuette of mine. I kept it on my dresser, next to my mirror,” she said, feeling a hysteria, a sickening disorientation grip her mind. What if he was imaginary, too? What if nothing about the Labyrinth was real---?

“And where did you obtain that statuette?” Jareth said evenly, though he was holding onto the railing as if anchoring himself, her emotions surely blasting over him like a hurricane.

Caught short, Sarah blinked, tried to remember. “I thought it was a secret gift from my mother,” she said slowly. “She didn’t like to talk on the phone, but sometimes she would mail me things, like pictures or newspaper clippings. The statuette just...appeared in my room one day. Jareth!” she suddenly cried, making the connection, feeling a sudden fury burn through her whole body. “You put it there!”

Jareth bowed his fair head, clutched at his temple, denying nothing as her rage battered him.

“I was just a child, Jareth! All my life...all my life you’ve been twisting me, manipulating me, trying to lure me in!”

Sarah clenched her fists, solidly planted her feet as the ground beneath them began to move, to shake. High above, one of the great spires of glass cracked free and tumbled end over end, falling past them to shatter in a million glittering pieces against the rock. 

“Sarah,” Jareth called in alarm, reaching a hand toward her. “The earthquake---”

“Do you feel this, Jareth?” Sarah screamed at him. “Can you stop it? Are you afraid?”

“Willful girl!” Jareth shouted back, staggering to his feet as the cliffside continued to shake. “Stop this, now! You have no idea of the havoc you’ll cause---”

“Who cares?” Sarah laughed wildly. “It’s all imaginary! Nothing’s real! Look, I can do this,” she shouted, reaching out to point across the valley, where a line of trees burst into sudden flame. “What difference does it make, in the end? Or this,” she said, blasting away an immense chunk of the ravine wall with a thought, sending it crashing down to the valley floor. “Or this.” And Sarah held Jareth’s eyes as she broke the foundations of the castle underneath them. 

A terrifying crack, a great lurch, and Jareth fell to his knees. As the castle began to slide, Sarah managed to hold onto the railing, calling up to where her dragon had awoken and was already spreading his wings. “Tim! Come to me!”

“My lady!” The dragon’s great voice echoed over the valley, sounding above the thunderous roar as the earth continued to shake and the castle broke apart under their feet. Tim swept low, his claws clutching at the railing, and leaned down so that Sarah could leap onto his back.

“Sarah!” Jareth called to her, still on his knees. “You must stop this---” 

“I don’t have to do a single thing you say, Goblin King,” she spat. “Enjoy your ride to the bottom. Tim, let’s fly!” And the great dragon beat his wings and sprang into the sky, leaving Jareth far below as the castle began its fall, finally coming free of the rock face and sliding far, far down to the valley floor. She knew when the castle hit, heard the catastrophic sound of shattering glass, but she did not look back. 

&&&&&&

For a day and a night, Sarah and Tim flew over the Underground as the land fell to pieces under them. The unformed areas at the edges of the domain had grown restless, the gray waves leaping high into the air to catch at Tim’s claws as they soared onward. The sky roiled with roving storms, their winds tearing leaves from trees, scouring the very rocks from the mountainsides and buffeting Sarah and Tim whenever they flew too close. Coils of black smoke rose in the distance, covering the horizon, and Sarah caught sight of great fires burning underneath before she turned Tim away. 

Let it burn. Let it all shake and burn and fall apart, this land where nothing was real or true, where beloved friends could turn out to have been mere fancies, wisps of dust on the breeze that coalesced into form for just a moment before blowing apart again, meaningless. 

Her friends were gone forever. They’d hardly existed at all. She’d never meant for them to fade, to slowly lose themselves to nothingness while she moved selfishly on with her life. Had they been aware of what was happening to them? Had they believed that she didn’t care?

Sarah wept until her eyes were dry. For a long while after, she lay silently against Tim’s scaly back. She let him fly where he willed, not knowing or caring where they went. 

“My lady,” she heard him say after an eternity. “Are you quite well?” 

“No, Tim,” she said, and he twisted his head back to hear her. “I created friends, imaginary ones, and I abandoned them to fade. I’m alone here after all. We’re all alone in the end, though, aren’t we?” She stroked his flank, full of regret that she’d created him without thinking. 

“I am not imaginary. Nor am I alone,” Tim rumbled. “I have my lady. And soon I’ll have my mate, my glorious sapphire wife.” His great blue eye winked at her, and her heart broke again. 

“Oh, Tim,” she said, wishing she’d never promised him. “I’m so sorry I created you…Please forgive me.”

“My lady, no. I am most happy to be alive,” Tim said. “From the moment of my creation I have soared these skies with my dear mistress, my wings full of the air of this world, my heart full of joy. Though I will surely fade if you leave this land, I won’t regret a moment of this life. My lady, a short existence is far better than none at all.” 

Sarah took a shaky breath. She dearly wished she could speak with her friends once more, tell them how much they’d mattered to her…

“Tim, let’s go to Jewel River,” she said suddenly. She’d give him his mate. Perhaps this would be her worst sin of all, to call a new being into existence when she already knew its fate. But she’d promised Tim, and oh, she didn’t know what was right anymore. At least her creations would be as happy as possible in the time that they had.

“Ah, thank you, my lady,” Tim shouted as he soared to the east, and Sarah closed her eyes in misery. 

But as Jewel River came into view below, Sarah saw a ruin, a wasteland of toppled trees. The huts of the goblin village were flattened, strewn about, the cheerful ribbons tangled and soaked with mud. Nothing moved on the blasted landscape, and even the river seemed sluggish, choked with rotting blossoms. 

“Oh, no...I did this, didn’t I,” Sarah whispered as Tim landed in a great rush of wind. “The villagers…where are they?” 

But Tim was unconcerned. “Look, mistress. There, the sapphire boulder,” he said as Sarah slid to the ground. “Ah, how free and lovely she shall be!” he said, weaving his great head from side to side. 

Wearily, Sarah thought back to when she’d created Tim. The way the sunlight had glowed in the heart of the egglike stone as she decided how he’d look, how he’d sound. This time, a female, sapphire to his ruby. Today the sun was smothered by black clouds, but she could imagine the egg’s inner fire burning bluer than a summer sky, outlining the sinuous form that was taking shape within. Golden-eyed, gracile where Tim was robust, fleet where Tim was deliberate. Loving the wind, loving her freedom just like her mate…

In a moment, the great sapphire cracked open with a sound like a shot, and a graceful neck rose up out of the shell. Glittering blue wings snapped open, and a roar, smoother than Tim’s voice but just as loud, cut through the air. 

“My beloved,” Tim cried as the female emerged from the egg. 

“How beautiful I am!” she said, rearing on her hind legs. “My wings, how fine! My tail, so strong!”

“No truer word was ever spoken,” Tim growled, and twined his long neck around hers, sensuous, before drawing back and spreading his vast ruby wings. “Fly with me, beloved. Let me show you the skies.” 

And the two dragons jumped into the air, the rush of their wings nearly toppling Sarah, and were gone in a moment. 

Sarah gave a shaky sigh, clutching her cloak around her. Now that the red dragon had left her to court his love, as was his right, Sarah felt more alone than she’d ever been. 

Should she leave the Underground now, go back to her old life, her placid world? Where there were no dragons, no wild unformed seas, no beautiful ancient Jareth with his fiery touch, his longing heart, his infinitely compelling gaze…

“Well now, dearie,” a gravelly voice called, cutting into her thoughts. “What mischief have ye got up to this time?” 

“Gram Allep,” Sarah gasped, for there was the old goblin lady. She hobbled slowly from a rough lean-to that Sarah hadn’t seen, since it so closely resembled the rest of the wreckage. 

“Woke me up, you did, with that cracking egg of yourn,” the old crone said, brandishing her walking stick. “More dragons means clutches, and clutches means dragonlings, dearie, but there’s room for all in the Underground. Not that things bid fair just at the moment,” she said with some annoyance, looking around at the devastation, the ruined trees. 

“What are you doing here by yourself, Gram Allep?” said Sarah, rushing to the old goblin’s side and guiding her toward a fallen log. “Where are the other villagers?”

“All gone up to the castle when the shaking started. Seeking shelter with the king,” Gram Allep said, gathering her robes. “Ach! Down we go…” She settled herself on the log, then looked up at Sarah. “But Jewel River’s me home, only place I belong. What’s more, I had a notion you’d come back, dearie,” she said with a knowing look.

“Oh, Gram Allep,” Sarah said. She felt a sudden urge to cry. 

“The look on your face! What’s the king done now? Come, you can tell Grammy.” She patted the log next to her, and Sarah sat.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story.” How much did the goblins know of Jareth’s imprisonment, the reason that the Underground existed? 

“Just tell us the juicy bits, then,” Gram Allep cackled. She rested her paws atop her gnarled stick and looked at Sarah expectantly.

“Um. Well. I found out that he’s been manipulating me since…since I was very young,” she said. 

“What’s…man-yip-allatin’, now?” Gram Allep tilted her round head.

“Trying to make me think about him, even before I knew him,” Sarah said, and Gram Allep clucked.

“That don’t make much sense, dearie.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Sarah sighed. It had been only a statuette, after all. And it had only served to help her recognize him when he appeared.

“What else, now?” Gram Allep tapped her stick.

Sarah gave a great sob. “My friends are---are dead, or something. Gone forever, anyway.”

“Faded, did they. Poor dear, how very sad for you.” Gram Allep looked sidelong at Sarah. “But if it helps, dearie, them that fade never seem unhappy, nor afeared.”

“You’ve seen it when they…fade?” Sarah asked, wiping at her eyes, her heart giving a painful squeeze. 

“King’s girls leave all sorts behind, dearie, and I’ve seen many a fading in my time. First they get quiet. Then they get still, and just smile at nothing. And at the last they’re sorta gazin’ upward and hummin’ to themselves, and it’s said they’re hearin’ the song of the stars. Cos that’s where they’re bound, dearie.” Gram Allep poked upward with her stick, where a few early stars were peeping though a break in the clouds. “Same as all of us, gone to light up the night forever. The king takes good care of us when our lives is over.”

Sarah sat quietly for a long time, looking up at the tiny lights that sparkled in the dusk. Gram Allep waited, leaning contentedly on her stick.

“Feel any better, dearie?” Gram Allep asked when the clouds had drifted together once more. 

“Some,” Sarah admitted. It was strangely comforting to know that her friends had not been lost to oblivion after all, but had been real enough to walk the path that was natural in this world. She’d never given much thought to the idea of Jareth as protector and caretaker of his citizens, but it seemed he provided for the very souls of the dead. 

“He’s a decent king, you know. In the end,” Gram Allep said. “Council meetings drive him spare, of course…and once he kicked me second cousin right in the rear-armor. But he does well by us, really. Ooh! Ever seen the castle’s cellars?” Gram Allep cackled and nudged Sarah with a sharp elbow. “His Majesty sends a bloody great tun of owl wine to every village, each feast day. Now then. You can’t say but fair to that.” The old goblin smacked her lips.

“I suppose not,” Sarah murmured. “But Gram. There’s more.”

“More gossip to be had, then? Well, out with it!” Gram Allep crowed. “It’s to do with you becoming our queen, or I’ll eat my fourth husband’s plate-mail.”

“Gram…If I don’t marry him by tomorrow noon, I’ll have to leave the Underground forever. Though that part’s not actually his fault. Orders from…above.” 

“Welladay! Another royal cock-up. But you’re still here, aren’t you, dearie.” Gram Allep’s rheumy eyes peered at her. “Not gone back home. So some little bit of you must not be set to bid the king farewell.”

Well, Gram Allep was right. At any moment, Sarah could have left the Underground forever, but here she was. 

“Or is it that you’d trade your hand in marriage to live in this world?” Gram Allep said slyly, cutting into her thoughts. “That I well understand, dearie. My second husband had such a handsome herd of pigs. I tell you, thinkin’ on them fine hogs did make it easy to be gracious when he came a-courtin’. Though he was ugly enough. Hardly any warts.”

Sarah gave a weak laugh. “I do want to stay in the Underground. So yes, that does complicate things. But still…I don’t think I could ever tie myself down to any man.”

“Do you love him, dearie?” Gram Allep asked. Sarah stopped short.

“I…” She swallowed hard. “I never really loved anyone like that,” she said slowly. “So I don’t---“

“Pish posh,” Gram Allep said, stamping her stick on the ground. “I’ve little use for all this circling about. It don’t have to be so confusticated. Just marry him, dearie. Cast him off later if he don’t please you.”

“Cast him off?” Sarah asked, blinking. “I can do that?”

“Why, it’s easy as anything,” Gram Allep replied. “Just say ‘I cast thee off!’ three times, three days in a row. Believe you me, I know all about it.” Gram patted her wispy white hair. “Practically set it to a tune, I did. Dratted goblin men.”

“Oh.” So marrying Jareth wouldn’t be irrevocable? She could leave him so easily, anytime she wished? 

“Mind you, them High Fae takes it dreadful serious,” Gram Allep said, raising a knobbly finger. “Not practical like us goblins. Them songs and tales what come from the castle never do tell of the High Fae marryin’ more than once. Or mebbe twice, ‘specially if the story’s one of them blood tragedies.” Gram Allep gave a ghastly grin.

“But it’s just the same for them? To cast someone off?” 

“Oh yes, just the same, high and low. There now, dearie.” Gram Allep gave a firm nod. 

Sarah frowned. “Jareth said he could make me immortal.”

“Did he now,” Gram Allep said, cocking her head. 

“But…could I cast that off too?” Or would she be stuck with it forever, always outliving everyone, always lonely, no natural end in sight?

“Well! Don’t rightly know.” Gram Allep looked up at the sky once more. “Them High Fae have the undying fire in ‘em…enough to gift to one other, or so the tales say. But I never heared of someone givin’ it up after. You’ll have to ask the king.”

As Gram Allep finished speaking, a great roar sounded across the sky, followed by another, deeper call. A tremendous downdraft stirred Sarah’s hair and Gram Allep’s robes, and the two dragons settled to the ground before them, sparkling red and blue in the dimness. They bowed. “Mistress.”

“Let’s go ask him now,” Sarah cried, jumping up. “What do you say, Gram Allep? How about a ride on dragonback?”

“Oh! Just fancy,” Gram Allep chortled. “For that I might leave Jewel River for a bit. I might indeed.”

Sarah turned to the blue dragon. “Would you do her the honor, ma’am?”

“With pride,” she answered. “I am Glow, mistress. Tim and I shall carry you forth, as far as we may.”

“Right,” Sarah said, suddenly remembering how Jareth had blocked her when she’d approached the castle by air. “Let’s give it a try.” She concentrated, and a cushioned palanquin appeared on Glow’s back. The blue dragon bowed obligingly low to the ground.

“My, my,” Gram Allep said, rising to her feet with a creak. “That little box does look quite comfy. And…up we go…” 

Sarah boosted Gram Allep into the palanquin and settled her in. “Are you ready?”

“Keep them curtains pulled back, there’s a nice queen. Wouldn’t miss this for anythin’!” Gram called, waving her walking stick.

“Jareth might not let us land,” Sarah cautioned as she leaped lightly onto Tim’s back. “He pushed me away last time. We might have to—“

“Bah,” Gram Allep said. “Let him try. Old Grammy will give him a piece of her mind, see if he likes it any better than that piddling troll army did. Well? What are we waiting for?”

“Tim, Glow, let’s fly,” Sarah called, and the two dragons spread their mighty ruby and sapphire wings and sprang up into the gathering darkness.

&&&&&&&

The ride was brief, but Gram Allep giggled all the way, calling out landmarks to Sarah. 

“Look, dearie, it’s the Mountain of Faces! No faces left now…Seems they’ve all worn off with the storms. Oh! Lookit them formal hedge gardens! My nephew tends ‘em---what a mess—ha, he’ll have to work for once! There’s the Glittering Forest, all burnt down. Not so glittery anymore, what what.” Gram Allep cackled.

Sarah smiled to herself, a little confused. The Underground was obviously broken beneath them, in ruins. Why didn’t Gram Allep seem more disturbed by the devastation? Sarah herself was sick with remorse. She didn’t have the heart to tell Gram Allep that she had caused the destruction by calling the earthquake, fire, and storms. 

Sooner than Sarah would have liked, the castle loomed into view, wrapped in a thick white fog. Reaching out with her mind, Sarah searched for Jareth’s barrier, the wall of wind that had blown her back while she was riding her leaf. But this time, it seemed, he’d done nothing to stop them. 

In fact, Sarah could not sense Jareth’s presence at all. The castle was eerily quiet.

At her bidding, the dragons settled carefully on a balcony, one after the other, and Sarah handed Gram Allep safely down onto the stones. 

“Ach!” The old goblin said as she regained solid ground. “That was quite the little adventure.” Her white bun had come undone in the wind, and her wispy hair stood out wildly from her skull in all directions. “Now then, I’m ready for a nice cup of tea. To the kitchens…”

As Gram Allep hobbled through the doorway that led to the castle’s interior, Sarah turned to the two dragons. “Would you stay nearby in case we need to escape?”

“Of course we will stay, mistress. Should you need us,” Tim said, “just call.” Tim and Glow inclined their great heads, and Sarah bowed gratefully before turning to follow Gram Allep.

Sarah’s heart beat faster as she descended the gloomy spiral staircase, following the distant sound of Gram Allep’s mutterings and the tapping of her stick. Now, after so long, she was finally returning to the castle at the center of the Labyrinth. What would she find this time?

But Sarah turned aside from the staircase when she spied a room she’d seen before. As Sarah stole closer and finally emerged into the relative brightness of the throne room, her breath left her body. For there he was, the Goblin King, sprawled across his throne. Not proud and bored as was his wont, but limp, scarcely breathing, deathly pale. 

“Jareth,” Sarah cried, rushing to his side. No matter how infuriating he could be, he was still her beloved Goblin King, her lover, her adversary, and it wrung her heart to see him brought so low. At her call, those milk-white eyelids slowly opened. 

“What’s happened to you?” Sarah asked, stroking the hollow of his cheek. 

“Sarah,” Jareth breathed, one thin hand lifting as if to touch her, then dropping weakly back to the arm of the throne. “You came back.” He closed his eyes again, as if the effort of speaking exhausted him. 

“Jareth, what’s wrong? Why are you…like this?” She gestured, feeling tears start in her eyes.

“Some of my citizens died. In the earthquake,” Jareth said, almost inaudible. “I restored them to life, as is my duty. But doing so…weakens me. I would need centuries to recover.”

“Then this is my fault. All my fault.” Sarah sat on the throne and gathered his head to her breast. “I’ve ruined the Underground, the Labyrinth, and now you’re…” She gave a sob. 

At that moment, a great shudder shook the castle underneath them. Sarah looked around, startled. “I didn’t…Jareth, I didn’t cause that earthquake. Did I?”

“Not an earthquake,” she heard him say against her neck. “It’s the innermost chamber...where you defeated me, long ago. Collapsing. Every one of my citizens…sheltering in the deeper levels,” he gasped. “The castle will fall…”

“And they’ll all be killed,” Sarah finished, her stomach twisting with fear. “And so will you. Oh, Jareth, if I help you to the chamber, can you repair it?”

“No,” Jareth croaked, and his face crumpled. “Can’t enter. Had to seal it off when the castle first fell.”

“You mean, when I first said the words of power.” Gently, Sarah set Jareth down to lie again on his throne, and got to her feet. 

Gram Allep…Toffin…little Nimla and Bayor Beedo from Jewel River…and the kind podling people from the glass castle. Oh, even Jenny the water hag. They were all below, and they’d be crushed if the castle fell. 

“I’ll repair the chamber, Jareth. All this is my responsibility. I won’t let anyone else die.”

“Sarah,” Jareth called weakly, but she paid him no mind as she made for the passageway she remembered taking, all those years ago.


	8. Chapter 8

Sarah trailed a hand along the rough stone of the stairway. She descended into the darkness, her eyes growing wider with every step as she strained to see. 

“Oh, when will I get used to this?” she whispered, and held up a hand. A blue glow appeared above her palm and shone softly over the passage. There were no doors, no openings. The path to the innermost chamber was not as she remembered. 

“How do I get to the innermost chamber?” she asked the darkness beyond her light’s reach, but the darkness had no answer for her, and Sarah was alone, with no friendly goblin to ask. She kept on walking, for too long, but no door appeared.

“I just---wait,” she said, stopping before a smooth stretch of wall. “What if I…”

She laid her fingertips on the cold stone and, with a thought, the wall melted away to reveal a room beyond. But instead of stairs running up and down and every which way, Sarah saw books---row upon row of ancient, dusty books, their shelves twisting and towering far above her head. 

Well, she must either enter the room, or continue down the passageway. Sarah stepped through the opening and soon found herself walking among the thousands of tomes, craning her neck to see the tops of the shelves that were lost in the gloom above. 

If she could find another wall, she could do as she’d just done: open another room, and perhaps discover the way to the innermost chamber. But as Sarah wandered for many minutes, as the shelves curved and wound deeper into the depths of the indefinable space, she came to realize---

“I’m in another labyrinth.” Sarah stopped and looked around her. Glancing up, she pulled a huge book from the nearest shelf, blew dust from its binding, and hauled it open. 

The handwriting, thin and spidery, reformed before her eyes until it was English, comprehensible. _Here follows an account of the Fall of Nothbrinnen House, most ancient family of swordmakers, by whose great arts was forged Alcrane the Fang, and who most treacherously sought to overthrow High King Oberon in the year---_

With a sigh, Sarah closed the book. She did not have the luxury of time to read more, though the name _Oberon_ had made her give a gasp of recognition. Later, perhaps. But the floor was trembling, and when Sarah glanced overhead, she saw the tops of the shelves swaying dangerously. Time to move on, and quickly. 

Then she heard something---a tiny, high sound, almost a whistle. Sarah turned her head, trying to place it, and moved to her right. She might as well investigate; one direction was as good as another in this trackless archive. 

The sound grew louder, sweeter. It was a song, a wandering melody that seemed to call her onward, deeper and deeper into places where the shelves grew shorter and the curving rows of books seemed to close in about her. She stooped, then bent over, until at the last she was crawling through a tunnel of books that seemed to breathe, to whisper, all around. 

The sweet song called her nearer and nearer. Surely she must be right on top of the source of it---and then she saw it, a book so unlike the others, a slim volume the same size as her red book back home. The yellow binding glimmered with fine golden tracery, seeming to gather light as Sarah reached out a hesitant hand. 

As she touched the book, it gave a soft flare of radiance, and its song ended with a sigh. After a long moment, Sarah picked it up and, sweeping her long hair to one side, opened it. 

The pages were blank. Sarah knit her brow. “But why---oh.” Golden letters were appearing slowly, forming into the same spidery handwriting she’d seen before, along with golden spatters and blots as though the writer had been hasty, careless of the precious ink. Sarah bent her head to read. 

_My love,_ the book began. _My true one. You do not exist, of course. Not a soul will ever read these words, for I am condemned to be alone for all time, with no way out of this endless prison._

Sarah’s lips parted, and the little book trembled in her hands. She gripped it a little tighter, and read on. 

_This book is a further cruelty, one I richly deserve. This, and the red book. They are not keys to my freedom, but a mockery. And thus forthwith I write my crime, my shame, here to strip it from my memory._

_I had a wife once, beautiful as the moon, with skin of onyx silk and hair like the clouds that drift between the stars, and I, who was once her husband, am not fit to write her name. For I proved to be a fool._

_Another woman danced across my path, young and flighty, with eyes of flame. I met her on my journey to the Outer Domains, those far realms where the Fae still dance before the bonfires and care nothing for the cautious customs of the noble folk. She loved me instantly, her mysterious stranger. I told her I was unmarried. I lied._

_When my little fire-sparrow found I’d betrayed her, she followed me. Soon she found my wife and told her sad tale, and thus together they denounced me to the High Court. I had no defense._

_And so here I sit, alone on a spur of bedrock surrounded by endless gray waters. The way is locked behind me. Nothing else is here save the two books, the golden and the red. I loathe the sight of them, for she who was my wife gave them to me with her own hands, saying that they could become my freedom should I ever grow to deserve such a mercy. But I shall never deserve it, and have not the heart for puzzles._

_I cannot destroy this book---her magic has seen to that. So I’ll build a library here, and bury it deep. A surfeit of caution, for her spell ensures that the pages will seem empty to all, even myself, save one---she who does not exist._

_So here in her golden book I weave my own spell, leaving the memory of my crime hidden in its pages, for I cannot live on unless I forget._

_I deserve no pity. That memory I shall hold. The rest will burn to ashes when this book is closed._

The rest was blank. Sarah let the book drop to her lap, and sat for a long moment, wondering. 

But she could not pause for long, because a great rumble from below shuddered through her body. The books around her trembled, and Sarah shielded her head with her arms as a few of them fell around her. 

“I have to reach the innermost chamber,” she said, and looked down at the shaking floor. “It’s all coming from below. No time to solve the labyrinth again---I have to---“ 

With a thought, the floor opened beneath her, sending Sarah and no small number of the books falling into the vast blackness below. 

 

&&&&&&&

Sarah fell endlessly, softly, drifting downward as great vistas opened on all sides. An inky, sullen sky stretched to a glowing horizon, and Sarah saw great rifts of dead blackness shooting across the sunset colors, spreading convulsively like cracks in glass. 

And just as before, Sarah felt her feet touch stone. Once again she stood on a broken piece of a castle, its fragments adrift on the dark air. Yes, this was the same place, but this time she was alone. 

And, she thought as she hugged her arms, this time she had even less idea of what to do next. 

“Think, Sarah.” What had she done before? Well, what she’d done had broken the castle and thrown this inner core into chaos. And she’d done it with mere words. 

“You have no power over me.” Just that much. Words held great potency here, in the heart of the castle. In his heart. 

Jareth had told her before that all the Labyrinth, all of the Underground, was him. It had taken shape from his imagination, and he controlled every part of it. So this place was the center of his being, his vision made manifest. And if it collapsed, the castle would fall too, and the Underground would be gone.

“Why now?” Sarah wondered aloud to the riven sky. “Why would the chamber start to finally collapse...ah.” 

She looked down at her hands. She’d done it all. Above her, outside, the Underground was burning, rotting away, its citizens fled. She, with her earthquakes and her dragon fire, had laid waste to this land. Lives had been lost, lives that Jareth had restored at the cost of his own vitality. 

But this core would collapse well before he recovered. Sarah stood a moment longer, thinking of a dead leaf gone crisp and green. 

“I know what I need to do,” she said to the still air. She closed her eyes, saw where she wished to be. And in a moment she stood again in the center of the throne room.

“Jareth,” she said to the unmoving figure on the throne, where the king lay drowned in a stillness deeper than sleep. “It’s my fault everything is ending. I see that now. But Jareth, I love this land of yours. This strange and wonderful place, with all its creatures. I love it, and I won’t let it die.”

In a few steps she was by his side. She bent and laid a hand on his chest, felt the weak flutter of his heartbeat. Then, closing her eyes, she saw him as he’d been. Tall, proud, arrogant, with a smile full of dark promise and eyes that unsettled. Jareth, the Goblin King, strong and whole once again. 

Then Sarah fell to the stone and knew no more. 

&&&&&&&&&

Breath filled her lungs and warmth flooded her body. She felt the castle under her, felt strong hands pulling her upward. She opened her eyes and saw only sunlight.

“Sarah.” His voice in her ear, insistent. “Tell me I’ve done it. Tell me you’re there!”

Well, that made no sense. Odd man. Sarah knit her brow. “So bright. Why so bright?”

“The sun has returned,” Jareth told her, his voice full of a disbelieving joy. “The smoke has gone, and every part of the land is bursting into bloom around us. I can feel it, Sarah. My Underground.”

“Oh, good.” There was too much light. Sarah closed her eyes again. 

&&&&&&&&&&

When next she woke, the glare of sunlight was gone. She lay in a soft, warm place canopied by veils of gossamer, gray in the dimness. Her body felt light, and her blood seemed to sparkle in her veins. For a long time she looked up into the layers upon layers of silken web, just feeling that sparkle, and remembering. 

After a while, she sat up and looked around. She was in a stone room she’d never seen before, with casements of glass---and when had she ever seen glass windows in the Labyrinth? And just outside, a low hedge…?

But hedges didn’t have eyes, many pairs of wondering eyes. Dozens of goblins clustered outside, their gnarled little faces peeping over the sills, and now she heard the muffled sound of their chatter. 

“Is she alive?”

“’Course she is, you pill-bug. King wouldn’t let our queen die, would he?”

“Is she our queen, then?”

“Who knows? Me cousin swears aye, but me mam, she says nay.”

“Yeah, but your mam polishes her armor wif pig dung.”

“Stuff it, pig dung’s loads grittier. Brings out the shine.”

“Ooh, she’s getting up!” 

“Psst, king’s coming! Everyone bugger off!”

And all the little faces disappeared. Footsteps sounded behind her. Sarah turned, and there he was, smiling down at her with all the insolence she could wish for. “Sarah. Back with us at last.”

“What happened?” she asked quietly, accepting his hand as he knelt beside her low bed. 

“When you used your power to heal me, I had strength enough to save the castle. The innermost chamber---you found a way in, didn’t you.”

“From the library. I opened the floor.”

“And fell not into the kitchens, but into the hidden core of the castle. Only you could have done that. My Sarah. But look…see what I found there.” Jareth held up a slim golden book.

“I read it,” Sarah said. “I know why you were imprisoned.”

Jareth opened his mouth, closed it again. Then he pressed her hand. “Will you tell me? Please.”

“Wait, Jareth. First tell me---what’s the time? Is it---“

“Late morning. But Sarah, never mind that now.” His smile was sad. “We have little time before the Trio act to seal their bargain, and I would that you use our last moments together to tell me of---”

“I want to stay.” Sarah held his gaze, her voice steady. “I want to stay in the Labyrinth. With you.”

Jareth searched her eyes. “Sarah. Are you quite certain? Even though you read…”

“I’m certain. Of course I am. But I have one last question first: why am I alive? Jareth, when I healed you, I thought I might die. I thought I’d give my life to save the Underground. But I feel---I feel wonderful. Better than I’ve ever felt.”

Jareth looked away, then quickly back at her, seeming almost afraid. “I spent part of myself to bring you back, Sarah. Part of my undying fire.”

“You made me immortal.” Sarah took a breath.

“Immortal, yes. With a choice. It was my gift to you, but you can release it anytime you like, and become an ordinary human again. I won’t mind if you choose that, Sarah. I counted the cost, and I find it a fair one.”

They sat in silence for long moments, and Sarah placed a hand on her chest, wondering at the strange feeling that bloomed there. A tiny, steady flame that would burn until the end of time, should she wish it. A kingly gift indeed.

“Thank you,” she said finally, not knowing what else to say.

Far off in the distance, a bell began to ring. Sarah looked to the windows with a start of dismay.

“Jareth. Is that the noon bell?” 

“It is,” he said. “Though the timekeepers in Goblin City are notoriously---“

Sarah covered his mouth with hers, burying both hands in his shirt. She hauled him up off the floor, using all her weight to pull him up onto the bed and over her body. 

“Take me, Jareth. Now. Now!”

“Sarah,” he gasped, and she saw him hunch over, as if with pain. Breathless, he gripped her thin nightdress in both hands and tore it open as the bell continued to toll. 

“I don’t want to leave you, Jareth. Please. Before it’s too late.” Sarah tried to pull his clothing aside, but in the next moment he’d willed every scrap of their clothing into nothingness. He reached down between their bodies, then stilled his movement.

“Sarah. Tell me once again. You must be sure!”

“Yes,” she cried, pulling at him, the sound of the bell filling her mind. “Now. Please. Make me yours.”

And then he was entering her, filling her, and her body hadn’t been quite ready yet, but Sarah did not care in the slightest. She lifted her hips, pulled him closer, held him tightly though her small pain, exulting as the final peal of the bell fell to silence. 

“By all the stars, Sarah,” he murmured in her ear. “I cannot believe the truth of this.”

“I can,” she whispered back. “Oh, Jareth. I never knew how much I wanted to stay with you, until I almost lost you.” She held him, bidding him not to move yet.

“You can always cast me off, you know,” he said, his forehead against hers.

“I know. I’m still free, and that makes all the difference. Please, Jareth. I’m ready now. Let me feel you.”

Jareth’s mouth was at her neck, his hands on her wrists. “My Sarah,” he said, and pressed her arms back against the bed, hard, grinning at her gasp. “My wild little human woman. I’ll hold you down, own you, my love. But only at your pleasure. Shall I stop?”

“No, Jareth,” Sarah breathed, struggling against his strength. “Don’t stop.”

“Say, ‘my lord husband.’” His smile glinted dangerously, even as his heart thundered against hers. 

“My lord husband,” Sarah said, closing her eyes as he dipped his head to bite at her breast. 

“Do you feel the fire, Sarah? The immortal fire in you?” Jareth said against her nipple, wet and stinging from his mouth. “It’s my fire. I can almost taste it on your skin. Do you know what the tales say of the humans who accept the undying fire?”

“There have been…others?” she gasped, delirious.

“Oh, many.” He moved up to take her mouth once more, then said against her open lips, “My kind has always lusted for yours, you bright birds of one morning. And they say, Sarah, that the one who gives the fire can still stoke it in the other. Raise the flames at will. Bring them…great pleasure.”

“Oh, Jareth.” She shivered under him. His eyes narrowed in concentration, and Sarah felt her heart begin to race, her body to lift, to sing with ecstasy as he continued to thrust inside her. Helplessly, Sarah cried out as the immortal fire sparkled and danced in every vein.

“Oh, beloved wife. How I’ll enjoy that sweet screaming.” Then he gasped, eyes wide with surprise, as the same firestorm gripped his body and pulled him over the edge at last. Shouting, he spilled inside her, as Sarah watched his face and smiled. 

“My fire is yours, Jareth,” she said when finally they lay still. “But yours is also mine.”

“Yes. Mine,” Jareth said, laying his thin cheek against hers. “Sarah. My Sarah. You are a wonder beyond all my dreams. It was just as the wise man said. You were my way forward.”

“I’m so glad I found my way back to you,” she whispered, and closed her eyes.

&&&&&&&&&&&

And so for endless years the Goblin King lived with his Queen, both of them working to build the Labyrinth anew and restore all the strange and beautiful lands his minions called home. The domain grew and flourished under their care, and when in due time their children arrived, immortal like their father but free to choose like their mother, the castle’s halls rang with their laughter. 

The odd little family often traveled between the Underground and the realm of humans, watching history wear on and on until her world was nothing like Sarah remembered it. Some of their children stayed in the Underground, and some left for the human world, eventually aging and dying but still carrying the breath of magic in their blood. 

And when in the fullness of centuries the Trio of Masks returned, they judged Jareth redeemed, and restored his freedom. And so the King took his beloved Sarah by the hand and opened the way before them into Faerie realms far beyond her imagining. But after every adventure the two of them always returned to the Labyrinth, for the Labyrinth was home.


End file.
